


Self Control

by quentin_speaks



Series: Self Control [1]
Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, LAMP - Romantic, M/M, Minor Character Death, OFC - Freeform, OMC - Freeform, Slow Burn, Suicidal Thoughts, those are very minor and not repetitive
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-05
Updated: 2019-10-09
Packaged: 2020-01-05 08:43:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 14
Words: 55,903
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18362564
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/quentin_speaks/pseuds/quentin_speaks
Summary: Logan just didn’t understand the need for soulmates. He’d spent his entire life without friends, and he felt as though he was doing rather well. Other people were complicated, they brought with them emotions that Logan didn’t know how to handle, and they always wanted him to feel something that he lacked. What good were other people to him? They couldn’t understand him anyway.





	1. Self Control

**Author's Note:**

> I've been working really, really had on this story for several weeks now, and have finally decided to go ahead and start posting it. The title is based on the song "Self Control" by Frank Ocean.

Logan had finally felt the gentle tingling sensation across his arms as his soulmate wrote to him, and a small feeling of sadness washed over him. Logan hadn’t expected to have had a soulmate. He didn’t really want one. He just needed himself, his books, his cello. Nothing else mattered, especially not a soulmate.

He couldn’t help but to look, though, and he realized, much to his chagrin, that there were multiple colours streaking across his arms, three to be exact.

_ Great,  _ he thought to himself,  _ Of course I get stuck with more than one soulmate. At least they have each other. _

Logan thought briefly about writing them but decided against it. If he said nothing at least they wouldn’t know that he existed, and they could go about their lives without trying to bother him. He had more important things to deal with, his pre-algebra homework being the most pressing.

He opened his backpack, took out his textbook and his math notebook, and started on the problems that were due in the next class, whizzing through them much more quickly than his peers likely did. Logan hadn’t always been the best in his class, but as he got older his priorities changed, and now he was the star student. Besides, he did love math, and he loved science, especially the astronomy section that they were studying in his fifth-period science class. 

He chanced another glance down at his arms and saw the bright colors breaking across his skin, red, blue, and purple, all of them combining into a messy drawing of a dragon, a prince, and a sword. What did he care? He wasn’t much for drawing, and he didn’t particularly understand fantasy, either. 

_ None of this matters,  _ Logan thought, returning his eyes to his textbook.  _ They can deal with their  _ emotions  _ or whatever. I have homework to do. _

**_*********_ **

Middle school was both the easiest and hardest thing that Logan had experienced. His classmates were so  _ dull  _ and so  _ stupid.  _ He didn’t understand why they would ask the exact same questions every day, phrasing them just slightly differently each time. It wasn’t hard to grasp such simple concepts, and yet his classmates could never seem to understand. Logan felt like he was wasting his time and energy constantly trying to slow himself down enough to fit with the class, and he was very tired of it. 

After a particularly long math class in which another boy had asked three separate times what a “quotient” was, Logan had finally had enough. He was light years beyond his fellow students, and he was becoming more and more bored with each class. He needed stimulation, he needed a challenge, and he needed to stop wanting to chuck his classmates out of windows. Logan decided the only appropriate course of action was to approach his teacher after class.

“Mr. Ellers, I have a question, if I may,” Logan said, stopping by Mr. Ellers desk after the bell had run and all of his fellow classmates had run out of the door at maximum speed. 

“Ah, Logan, of course. Are you having any trouble with the equations?” Mr. Ellers said, voice gentle, yet powerful. He had a way of speaking that Logan found somewhat captivating.

“Actually, the opposite,” Logan started. “The work we’re doing in class is far too easy for me. I’ve already finished all of the problems in our book, and I was wondering if you might have something more challenging that I could work on now.”

Mr. Ellers’ eyes widened with surprise, not having expected any student, not even Logan, to have voluntarily completed every assignment in the textbook. He’d been a public school teacher for nearly 20 years and not once had any student asked him for  _ more _ work.

“Unfortunately right now I don’t have anything that I can give you,” Mr. Ellers said.

Logan’s face fell slightly, and he resigned himself to begging his mother to take him to the library to look for something--anything--that might give him more to work on. His mother would likely be pleased to hear that he was wishing for more work, but he doubted that she would have much time to actually take him to the library. She was always so busy at work, sometimes Logan wondered if she remembered him at all. 

“If you give me a few days, though, I might be able to put something together for you,” Mr. Ellers said finally, giving Logan a slight jolt. “I’ll talk to the 7th and 8th-grade teachers and see if they have any extra books lying around. Would you mind turning in the assignments you’ve already completed in your current book? I’d like to take a look at them just to be sure that you fully understand the concepts.”

“Of course,” Logan said, reaching into his backpack. “Is it okay if I just give you the entire notebook?”

“That’s fine.”

Logan handed him his notebook, which was nearly out of pages anyway. He thanked him and headed towards his third class of the day which was history. He actually liked history, despite the fact that he was nearly positive that every other student in the school hated it. There was something interesting about learning about things that had happened in the past, something fascinating about the inhumanity of medieval torture and the lack of caring that must’ve been prevalent at the time. In some way, he understood it.

He walked briskly towards the classroom, avoiding the eyes of his classmates to the best of his ability. Friends weren’t exactly Logan’s strong suit, and as such there weren’t very many peers that he bothered to talk to. He did talk to one girl in his science class, but he wouldn’t have considered he a friend, more so just an acquaintance and lab partner. 

As he walked, he felt a familiar tickle branching out over his wrist, and he knew that someone must’ve been writing to him. 

Well, not  _ to _ him specifically, but to their soulmates, of which he was one. 

He’d only been learning to deal with their presence for a few weeks, but he was becoming slowly accustomed to it. They would write, he would sometimes read, but he never wrote back. For all intents and purposes, he did not exist in their minds. Logan saw this to be a good thing, and felt as if it was less complicated and messy than the alternative.

He reached his history class and took his usual seat in the front right corner of the classroom, furthest from the door but closest to the teacher’s desk. He started to remove his textbook and his notebook, and felt the tingle of writing on his arm once again. Logan sighed, rubbed his arm, and felt thankful that for the long-sleeved white shirt he wore under his polo. Less temptation to look that way.

With class finally starting, his full attention drew to the lecture, finding the history of Constantinople to be more interesting than he’d imagined that it would be.

**_*********_ **

Mr. Ellers asked Logan to see him after class, and Logan lit up at the idea.  _ Finally _ he’d have something new to work on. Something more challenging, something that would keep him busy. He’d been thinking about it nearly non-stop for the past few days, just hoping to have something to keep him occupied outside of his cello lessons and the rest of his homework.

Logan had never really liked television very much, and his mom only allowed him to watch for an hour a day anyway. He found that it was more entertaining to read or to occupy himself with something else. He liked playing cello, but he wasn’t adept with the emotional aspect of music, and had been told multiple times by his instructor that he needed to work on not playing with such a flat tone. She had told him at least four times that he could remember, and each time he’d written it off. He thought that he sounded just fine, “flat” or not.

Logan worked the problems out in class as they were put on the board, often finishing much sooner than Mr. Ellers had worked them out. He knew that his teacher was purposefully going slowly, allowing time for students to write and ask questions. Still, Logan felt a sense of pride at the idea that he was finishing the equations so quickly.

Twenty minutes before the end of class Mr. Ellers passed out a quiz, and Logan immediately launched into the problems. Most of them were equations he’d remembered solving in the textbook, but some were new. They weren’t very difficult, and Logan finished his quiz faster than anyone else in the class. There were few things that made Logan truly feel prideful, but he had to admit that he enjoyed the competition. He especially enjoyed  _ winning _ , even if it was just at being the first to finish a quiz or getting the highest grade on a project.

When the class was over Logan waited for his classmates to exit, and then made his way over to his teacher’s desk. Mr. Ellers was sitting in his chair, grading some of the quizzes that had been turned in well before the bell had rung. He looked up at Logan as he approached.

“I talked to the 7th and 8th-grade teachers, and we agreed that we’d like to see about a placement test,” he said.

“A placement test?” Logan asked. He’d just been expecting a different textbook, not a full test.

“That way I’d be able to gauge your current knowledge and get you the right materials. You know,” he paused, seemingly lost in thought for a moment, “You did extremely well on the equations in your book. Did you have help?”

Logan shook his head, “No, sir.”

“I thought as much. You’re very gifted, Logan. In all of my time I’ve never seen a student so adept at math, and with such love for the subject.”

“Thank you.”

“Did you know that we have a competitive mathematics team?” Mr. Ellers asked. 

Logan had never heard of a competitive math team, and he was genuinely surprised by it. “What is that?”

“It’s a team of students who solve math problems while competing against other schools, and it starts in January. You can think of it similarly to a spelling bee.”

“That sounds,” Logan wasn’t quite sure what the word to use would be. “Fun,” he settled on, earnestly.

“It’s usually restricted for our 8th-grade students, but I may be able to convince Mrs. Daughtry to make an exception if you grasp the concepts well enough. It might be something for you to think about.”

Logan nodded, “I will.”

Mr. Ellers handed him a small stack of stapled papers, “This is the placement test, you’re welcome to turn it in whenever you’re ready.”

“Thank you,” Logan said, placing the papers into his backpack. “I’ll get this back to you as soon as I can.”

Logan took his leave, heading towards his history class, mind reeling. He’d never thought of a math league before, and the idea excited him. It wouldn’t be easy, that much he knew, but he was ready to put in as much work as it took to find his way onto that team. He’d have to start with the placement test when he got home.

**_*********_ **

Logan had been planning on spending the entire evening after his cello lesson dedicated to finishing his placement test, but it seemed like his soulmates had another plan in mind for him that night.

They’d been writing non-stop for several hours, and Logan couldn’t focus. It wasn’t painful, but it was distracting and almost itchy in a way. He tried to focus on his assignment, but every time his mind would end up wandering back to the tingling in his arms, his legs, he stomach. They just seemed to write everywhere, every inch that they could. 

He didn’t want to look, he didn’t want to know what they had to say, what they were talking about and laughing about to themselves. It wasn’t his business. He wasn’t part of their relationship, and he didn’t want to be. Still, it was his body, and the messages were showing up there, and his curiosity had a bad habit of getting the better of him.

Logan locked his bedroom door, and took his shirts off, then looked at his arms first. His left one was dotted with blue flowers, and his right with red hearts, both containing a fair amount of writing.

_ Hey Virgil, check your left ankle! _

Logan couldn’t help but wonder which one Virgil was. The name rolled over in his mind, soothing his thoughts. Virgil was a nice name, he supposed. He looked down at his left ankle, where more red writing was located.

_ Made you look! _

A light blue arrow pointed down to the writing, and Logan’s eyes followed it up to meet light blue writing. It was neat, easy to read, and the ‘i’ had been dotted with a circle instead of a tittle. 

_ Roman that’s not very nice! _

Roman must’ve been the one in red, then, and that would make Virgil the one writing in purple. He wondered idly what the person in blue’s name was, but he was sure that somewhere he would be able to find it. He started looking across his arms and legs, his stomach, hoping to find a name. 

He found purple writing next to a particularly large blue flower on his right thigh, and suddenly the final name had been revealed to him.

_Patton your drawings are always incredible_

_ Patton _ , Logan thought.  _ Virgil, Roman, and Patton. _

Logan felt a sharp pain in his chest, and he immediately jerked his eyes away from his body. He needed to put his clothes back on, he needed to stop invading their privacy. Soulmates or not, they didn’t know that he existed, and it was inappropriate for him to be spying on a private conversation.

He quickly redressed, unlocked his door, and forced his brain to stop thinking about the writing that was still appearing across his body. None of that mattered. What mattered was his placement test, and his shot at joining the math team. He didn’t even  _ want  _ to have a soulmate, much less  _ three. _ His mother had gotten along just fine without a soulmate, and he would too. He didn’t need them, he didn’t need anyone.

Finally the writing started to die down, and Logan was able to start on his test, finding that the equations were still much easier than he would have liked. It was better than nothing, and slightly more challenging than the work he’d done in his pre-algebra textbook. 

Tomorrow he’d turn in his assignment, and after that he would wait to see what Mrs. Daughtry had to say about his results. If he was good enough, he might be able to join the older students, and that was all that mattered. He could excel at something, and hopefully make his mother proud while he was at it. 

He didn’t need soulmates, he had his equations, he had the stars, and he had his cello. His soulmates could have each other, Logan was just fine without them.

**_*********_ **

Logan was waiting for his meeting with Mrs. Daughtry, patiently sitting in her classroom as she stood watch outside the door, making sure that no students were misbehaving or missing their busses. He walked home every day anyway, so he was thankful that he didn’t have to worry about missing anything. 

Mrs. Daughtry finally came back into the classroom, and Logan straightened slightly. She gave him a smile as she took her seat across from him at her desk, and began pulling papers out of a folder.

“Logan, your practice test looked incredible,” she said, placing the graded test in front of him. “I have to wonder if you might have asked your parents for help?”

“No, ma’am,” Logan responded. His mother was a lawyer, and not particularly good with numbers. “I didn’t even use a calculator,” he added. 

“Really? That’s impressive,” Mrs. Daughtry mused. “Would you mind if I put a couple of equations on the board for you?”

Logan assumed that she needed proof that he’d been able to do the problems by himself, but he felt a slight indignance at it. Of course he’d answer them, and he knew that many students might lie about their achievements, but if there was anything Logan wasn’t, it was an intentional liar. “Of course,” he said finally. 

They walked towards the whiteboard and Mrs. Daughtry began writing a series of equations on the board. Logan recognized several of the formulas quickly, and was soon enough was calculating the slope of a line, which he assumed wasn’t supposed to have been taught for another year or so. He’d also found himself calculating the volume of a cylinder, which he knew was in the 7th-grade textbook somewhere. He’d heard several upperclassmen complaining about not understanding geometry. There were a few other problems that he answered, mostly basic algebra and basic geometry, and one particularly large multiplication problem. 

Mrs. Daughtry looked over the problems, and Logan could figuratively see her brain working them over. She’d, of course, already known the answers, but was impressed to have seen Logan answer them all so quickly. 

“Fascinating…” She trailed off, eyes darting over the problems again, looking for any mistakes that might have been made. “I’m impressed, I have to say.”

“Thank you,” Logan said. 

After a moment, Mrs. Daughtry finally spoke again, “I’d love to have you on the math team. We could definitely use someone with such an… advanced grasp on mathematical concepts.”

“I would like that,” Logan said, trying to keep from appearing too excited. 

They talked about the start of the competition season, and how they began their studying at the beginning of the second semester. The first was coming to a close, and it wouldn’t be long until it was time to start. Logan wondered briefly what extra he could do in the time leading up to the start of the semester, but the train of thought was quickly interrupted.

“I’d like to give you this,” Mrs. Daughtry said, walking over to the bookshelf behind her desk. “It’s a precalculus book, usually reserved for our 8th grade honors students, but I think you’ll get more use out of it than most. Just be sure to return it to me before the end of the school year, okay?”

Logan thanked her, added the book to his backpack, and took his leave. 

When he got home, he couldn’t help but roll up his sleeves to see what his soulmates had written.

_ Congratulations! _

Logan wondered how Patton could have possibly known to congratulate him, and he felt himself start to worry. Did they know about him? He’d been so careful.

Then he noticed the red writing appear below Patton’s and things started to make much more sense.

_ Thanks! I’m so excited! I’ve never gotten a lead role before _

Logan was safe, his soulmates still knew nothing of him. Roman had gotten a lead role of some sort, and that was all that Patton had meant. Still, Logan couldn’t help but wish deep down inside of him that Patton had been speaking to him. 

He sat at his desk chair and decided that he should start with cello practice, knowing that he had a performance coming up. He pulled his cello out, made sure that it was properly tuned, and started on the opening notes of Haydn’s Minuet in D Major. It was a song that Logan was intimately familiar with, and one that he’d grown to love over the week’s he’d spent learning it. Something about the gentle melody spoke to him, and he was thankful that for once his instructor had agreed to give him the solo. 

**_*********_ **

“Logan? Would you come down here please?” Logan’s mother, Merida, called from downstairs. 

Logan quickly made his way down the steps, stopping to find his mother in her office, sitting at her desk. Her hair was pulled back into a tight bun, and she was wearing a nicely tailored suit that Logan had seen her in more times than he could count. She was looking idly at her computer screen, which illuminated her face slightly.

“I got a call from the school today,” she said, eyes tearing away from the screen. “Apparently my son hasn’t been telling me anything for several weeks now. Is this true?”

Logan felt his breathing hitch, “I’m sorry, ma’am.” 

“Yes or no, Logan.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he said, trying to keep his tone even. He couldn’t imagine that she would be angry with him, but his mother was unpredictable in many ways. 

“I’m proud that you’ve made the math league at such a young age,” she told him. “However you should have told me much sooner what’s been going on in your life.”

Logan thought through his next words carefully before finally speaking. “I know you’re very busy, I didn’t want to bother you with my schoolwork, especially since I haven’t been struggling.”

His mother sighed and pressed her fingers to her temples. She looked at him with sad eyes for a moment. “You’re so independent, just like your father.”

Logan felt the words graze against him, and he wondered to himself why he was bothered so much by being compared to his father. He thought that perhaps it was because he’d never known his father, and thus couldn’t gauge the accuracy of the comparison. 

“I was asked if I would be willing to allow you to test out of several classes following the current semester,” his mother told him. “Your grades are well above your peers, and a few of your teachers have recommended that you might be able to skip a grade or several.”

Logan’s entire face lit up, “Really?” he asked, his excitement bubbling through. “I could just skip ahead and not have to relearn the same material again?”

“If you would like to.”

He couldn’t help but beam widely at his mother, the happiest he had ever remembered feeling. “I’d love that!” 

“I’ll call the school back, then,” she said, and Logan thanked her, starting to walk out of her office as her eyes drifting back to her computer screen, “And Logan?”

“Yes, ma’am?” He said, stopping dead in his tracks to turn and look at her once more.

“No more secrets, please. It’s not a bother for you to tell me what’s going on in your life.”

“Yes, ma’am, I will.”

**_*********_ **

By the beginning of the second semester Logan had been promoted to the 8th grade, and by the end of the second semester he wasn’t entirely sure that he was ready for high school. He was excited, sure, but he was much younger than his classmates, and he was often picked on because of it. Most days it was just small things, like returning from the restroom to find his books had been moved, or being called names, neither of which particularly bothered him. Other times it was more bothersome, students saying that he’d cheated to get where he was or otherwise insulting his intelligence. 

Logan didn’t mind the names, none of that mattered, but he didn’t take well to anyone insinuating that he was unintelligent. He’d worked too hard and spent too much time proving his worth to have other students accusing him of being a liar. It bothered him greatly, though he wouldn’t outwardly admit to it.

The second half of his year, despite the struggle with being respected by his classmates, had been the best of his life so far. He was excelling on the math team and they were going to be competing in the state finals, his classes were going well and he was passing all of them without a hitch. He was even doing better with his cello lessons and had found a sort of comfort from them that he’d never experienced before. Nearly everything had fallen perfectly into place.

_ Nearly _ everything.

He was still, against his better judgement, spying on the conversations between his soulmates, who wrote at all hours of the day and night. Virgil was particularly guilty of writing late-night notes, while Patton would respond very early in the mornings. Logan sometimes wondered how these… children were supposed to be his soulmates. 

It still didn’t matter, though, because Logan did not  _ need _ soulmates, nor did he want them. The fact that he was still reading their messages bothered him greatly, and he wasn’t sure why he couldn’t gain the self-control to stop. They had never known about him, and they had no need to know about him. He was absolutely not going to take part in a stupid, romantic ritual that only served for the purpose of procreation. 

_ Well… Maybe not solely for the purpose of procreation _ , he thought.  _ Perhaps it also helps to control the size of the population, seeing as my  _ soulmates  _ and I would be unable to procreate. Not that I would ever want children, anyway. Too messy, too much work.  _

Logan just didn’t understand the need for soulmates. He’d spent his entire life without friends, and he felt as though he was doing rather well. Other people were complicated, they brought with them emotions that Logan didn’t know how to handle, and they always wanted him to feel something that he lacked. What good were other people to him? They couldn’t understand him anyway.

Still he wondered what Patton looked like, wondered what Roman’s acting was like, and wanted to read Virgil’s longer poems, the ones that he refused to share on his body. Logan wanted to know them, desperately, but it wasn’t rational. He didn’t want to  _ be _ with them, he wanted to  _ study  _ them, to observe them, to know their habits and their personalities, but not to have them analyze him. 

Logan didn’t need analyzing. He didn’t need therapy, he didn’t need friends or soulmates or fathers. He was happy by himself, he was doing well. His mother was proud of him, his grades were incredible, and he was going to win the state championship for his math league. Those were the truly important parts, the parts that mattered to him, to his mother. He was going to be the best, no matter what that took.


	2. I Can't Make You Love Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Logan didn’t particularly like lying. He supposed that it wasn’t necessarily lying, though. The universe may have given him soulmates, but the universe meant nothing. Logan had chosen not to have soulmates, and that was the most important part. He did not want them, so he did not truly have them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The title for this chapter is based on the song "I Can't Make You Love Me" by Bonnie Raitt. I've also decided to leave Logan's writing in bold to help distinguish it from the rest of the chapter. Let me know if it's distracting and I'll fix it.  
> Also thanks to everyone who's left a kudos and/or comment so far, it means a lot!

Logan’s high school experience had been subpar, to say the least. His freshman year was filled with the taunts of his classmates and upperclassmen who were convinced that he was too young to be included in outside activities. Not that that had mattered much to Logan, as his days outside of class were mostly spent between orchestra rehearsals, math tutoring, and the occasional cello lesson. 

He missed the math team, but despite the school’s best efforts, not enough students were interested in joining, and they’d had no choice but to disband. It had left Logan particularly upset for several weeks, considering that the middle school team had placed first in the state and fourth at nationals. Students just didn’t care about competitive mathematics. Logan had hoped that in the following years the team might be brought back, but it was quickly forgotten by the school, and he knew that it would not be returning.

Starting his senior year he was taking three dual credit courses, one of which was a physics class that he particularly enjoyed, while the others were philosophy and psychology, both of which he found fascinating. Logan had struggled some with deciding what colleges to apply to, and for what majors, but in the end, the decision had been easy. For as much as Logan loved physics, chemistry, and astronomy, something inside of him called him towards music. His cello was his comfort, his best friend in a way, and music was, for lack of a better term, his passion. 

It had only been a few weeks since the semester had started, but Logan was feeling particularly drained. The other students had finally given up on trying to harass him, but he’d found a sense of discomfort in the halls despite his best attempts. The days were far too long and he was far too tired. 

His nights were spent awake looking up at the stars, or quietly finishing the last of his assignments. Logan knew that sleep was important and that he needed more than four hours a night (if that), but he couldn’t seem to make his mind shut off. Instead, it would race and he would find himself pacing about, wondering about the possibilities of how his life might have been different if he was more… emotionally available.

It wasn’t a surprise to anyone that Logan didn’t believe that he ever truly felt emotions, and what he did feel was usually dulled. _ Of course  _ he’d never been able to make friends, he simply lacked the empathy necessary to keep them from wanting to leave. It wasn’t necessarily his fault, more just the luck of the draw, he supposed. Logan didn’t think of himself as particularly spiritual, but he did believe in some sort of universal fate, and that fate had lent to him becoming the man he was.

On the days when he was stressed or the world felt to be a little too much, he’d play his cello. He’d sit for hours playing the same songs again and again, trying to perfect them. On the days when his arms and legs were numb, the tingling of his soulmates writing not gracing his skin, he would write. He’d write notes to songs that he’d never wished for anyone else to hear. He would write for himself, his soulmates, his parents. They would never listen, he was sure of it, but the writing helped to relieve a weight on his chest that he couldn’t quite place. 

When he did feel the gentle tickle of his soulmates writing, he reminded himself not to read it, but he usually did. He wasn’t sure why he couldn’t stop, but for whatever reason Logan seemed to care. He cared whether or not they were doing okay, whether or not they were surviving happily without him, though he would never admit to it, not even to himself. Sometimes he wondered if they had figured out about him and never said anything. 

It had been four years, it was very possible that at some point Logan had been a little too careless and ended up with accidental ink upon his skin. If any of them had known about him, though, they had never let on. Not once was he asked about or mentioned, and not once did Roman, Patton, or Virgil say a single word about a fourth soulmate. Logan wondered what they’d do if they were to find out. 

Four years without a word from him, and to find that he was there, reading all of their conversations and seeing all of Patton and Roman’s drawings. He’d read so many of Virgil’s poems, and copied so many of them into notebook after notebook, a guilty secret that he intended to take with him to the grave. Should Logan reveal himself now, he assumed that they would feel betrayed, spied upon, and likely angry. Emotions were strange like that, always being misplaced or confused, and often leading to confrontation that Logan saw no need for. In his opinion, the only proper form of confrontation was a professional debate.

Logan wanted to know them, though, on some level. He wanted to know Roman’s favorite colour and read Virgil’s favorite book, even wanted to try one of Patton’s all-too-famous cookies that the others would go on and on about. He wanted  _ them _ , and Logan hated every part about that.

Logan found himself standing in the kitchen after school, eyes sifting through the options for dinner. They were running particularly low on groceries, and he had a feeling that his mom wouldn’t be going to buy more anytime soon. Despite being a lawyer, she was often neglectful of her own needs, and often neglectful of her son as well. Logan had become used to it throughout his life, but he had always secretly wished for a more attentive mother.

He settled on an apple from the bag that was in the fridge and went to sit at the dining room table. His mother might not have been very attentive, but she still had strict rules, and eating only in the kitchen and dining room was definitely one of them. Logan was guilty of breaking it a few times, but he’d learned his lesson the hard way. 

His mother wasn’t an uncaring woman, she was just busy, he often told himself. It wasn’t that she didn’t want to spend time with him, it wasn’t that she meant to be dismissive, but her job was important, and as she was the only source of income her job had to be her top priority. Even if that meant leaving Logan alone for much longer than most parents would leave their children.

She had her own charms, he thought. What she lacked as a mother she made up for with her intelligence and her dedication, and despite the fact that Logan knew that they would never be very close, he couldn’t help but respect her. Everyone has their flaws, his mother’s was mainly the fact that she had never been meant to have children.

It saddened him to think about that, and he felt almost guilty as the thought passed through his head. She’d never meant to have him, that much he’d known his entire life. She and his father were not very careful, and she had ended up pregnant with him. Upon hearing the news his father left, and she’d been unable to contact him since.

“You weren’t a  _ mistake _ , Logan,” she would tell him. “Just unplanned. Your father was a coward. He always found some way to avoid his responsibilities, and that isn’t your fault. His problem was that he was just so damn… sensitive.”

Logan had replayed those words in his mind more times than he could count. “Sensitive” had become synonymous with “Disappointing” to him, and he had vowed that he would never allow himself to become like his father. 

“He always thought that he could handle anything, but he’d give up halfway through. He was a quitter, and he’d be so upset over every little detail when things didn’t go exactly his way. Your father was the one who had said that he’d wanted children, you know. He was the one who always talked about wanting to have a family, soulmates be damned. Of course as soon as I told him I was expecting you he took off without another word, leaving me to deal with you alone. Selfish, that’s exactly what he is. A selfish, unreasonable man, who never thought of anyone but himself.”

**_*********_ **

Logan’s mother sat across the dining room table from him, drinking a cup of coffee with a sudoku book open. Logan drank his own coffee in silence, watching the cardinals fly outside the window. He’d not been expecting to see snow so early in the year, but global warming had been taking its’ toll, and overall it wasn’t very surprising. Still, the freezing weather in mid-October was not very well welcomed.

“How is school going?” His mother asked, looking up from her puzzle.

“Well,” Logan responded. “My classes are going well. I’ve got a physics test coming up on Thursday, I’m sure I’m going to pass it.” 

She hummed, then brushed a stray strand of hair out of her face. “And how are rehearsals going?”

“Very well,” Logan told her. “Our autumn program was last Wednesday, we’ve just started learning music for our winter performance.”

Logan watched his mother’s face drop slightly at the mention of his last concert. She’d promised him that she would make it, but Logan hadn’t taken that to heart, thankfully. His mother had a habit of forgetting or being too busy to go to any of Logan’s performances. She’d missed every major event since middle school, and Logan had stopped believing her when she said that she would be there. It was easier to not have hope.

“I’m sorry,” she told him, “I’ll be at the next one.”

“It’s okay,” Logan said. It really wasn’t okay, but he couldn’t tell her that. He didn’t need to put any more of a burden on her than she already had. “I know that you’re busy, I can’t expect you to be there for every concert.”

His mother smiled at him, her blue eyes crinkling slightly at the edges, giving an almost soft look to her normally angular face. “I’m so glad you understand.” She seemed to get lost in thought briefly, taking a long sip of her coffee. “I’ll be at the next one,” she said again. 

Logan muttered something unintelligible and found himself drifting in thought. “We need groceries,” he said. He finished his coffee and walked to rinse the empty mug out and place it in the dishwasher. “We’re going to need more coffee pods,” he called back to his mom. He knew that the threat of being without coffee was the most likely thing to get her to the store. They both had an addiction, and Logan tried his best to convince himself that there were some health benefits to it. 

“I’ll go this afternoon,” she called back, and Logan replied to thank her. He was ready to retire back to his room, to work on the creative writing assignment that he’d been putting off for the past few days. He couldn’t put it off any longer, it was due on Monday and he’d never forgive himself if he didn’t turn it in.

He walked up the stairs, heading into his bedroom, and locked the door behind him. It was a habit that he’d always hoped he’d break, but Logan preferred his privacy too much to leave the door unlocked. His mother had had a bad habit of not knocking when he was younger, and even though she was  _ much _ better about it then, he still didn’t trust her not to walk in without permission.

He couldn’t risk that. He couldn’t risk her seeing him without his clothes on, without something covering his arms. She’d have so many questions about the writing scribbled down his arms and why he’d lied to her. He couldn’t tell her the truth, especially not now, so many years after the fact, she would never forgive him.

Logan pulled out his materials for his class and began to look them over again, for what must’ve been the fifth or sixth time. It wasn’t that Logan didn’t understand the assignment, but more so that he didn’t want to  _ do _ the assignment. He didn’t want to think about it, didn’t want to actually sit down and write for the prompt. He thought the journals were useless exercises anyway, but he’d always done them, as they counted for his grade. This one, though, was the most difficult he’d had yet.

_ Suppose you do not have a soulmate. How might your life be different? If you do not have a soulmate, suppose that you do. What would you wish to say to them? _

Logan groaned reading over the words again, frustration overtaking him. This world was so  _ obsessed _ with soulmates, with love, with happily-ever-afters, and Logan hated it. What about those without happy endings? What about those who didn’t want that for themselves? The universe just got to pick and choose which people were born with or without soulmates? The entirety of the process was so unreasonable. Why should he have three out there somewhere, but yet his mother had none? What universe saw that outcome as just?

Logan was tasked with a difficult decision (one that he’d already made, but wouldn’t yet admit to) as to whether or not he should tell the truth. He’d never told anyone about his soulmates before, not even his mother, and he wasn’t particularly keen on talking about them in an assignment that would be read by his teacher. Still, Logan didn’t particularly like lying. He supposed that it wasn’t necessarily lying, though. The universe may have  _ given _ him soulmates, but the universe meant nothing. Logan had  _ chosen _ not to have soulmates, and that was the most important part. He did not want them, so he did not truly  _ have  _ them. 

He decided that he was going to write as if he’d been born with a soulmate, and was writing to them. The words he wanted to use were foreign to him, but he figured that eventually he’d find the right ones to use, and it would be good enough. It was a stupid assignment, anyway, and for once, he didn’t care if he got less than an A.

**_I find it difficult to write someone whom I know does not exist, but I suppose in this instance that you do. I’ve never found myself wanting a soulmate, and I can’t quite say that I feel like I’m lacking, though I’m sure my opinion might be different if you were real._ **

Logan felt like the words were inorganic, and that they wouldn’t likely resonate well with his teacher. Although it was a journal assignment, he still had to meet the criteria, and that wasn’t even close. He erased and started again.

**_I wonder what you look like, and I think about that often. I see your words written across my skin, but I’ve never said a word. Soulmates are stupid._ **

No, no, that wouldn’t work. He needed something else, something that didn’t end with “Soulmates are overhyped and I, for one, am glad that I don’t have one.”

**_I’d like to apologize for the heartache that I might bring you. I know that soulmates are considered to be the most important people in our lives and that we’re supposed to love each other unconditionally. The universe, or God, or fate, what have you, brings us together to form a bond that should last a lifetime, and I’m sorry that I cannot be this person for you. There are people out there, soulless people who want the kind of love that you might be able to offer, and I suggest that you look for them. I am truly, deeply sorry that you’ve been given the poor luck of having been stuck with me, but I don’t believe in soulmates. I don’t believe in fate._ **

**_I don’t mean to hurt you, this isn’t because of something you’ve done or the person you are, it’s just that I don’t want a soulmate. I don’t need one, and I know that you don’t need me either. We’ll be better off alone, and I know that with time you’ll be able to see that, too._ **

**_Love is a messy, complicated thing, and I wish that I could say that I understand it. I wish that I could understand the pain that you will likely feel upon reading this, upon learning of the unrequited love that you may have for me.. Emotions have never been my strong suit. I hope that this is something you understand much better than I do, as this isn’t something I would wish upon another person._ **

**_I feel that it isn’t fair to let you wonder endlessly if I exist and if I will ever speak to you, so I am reaching out. I don’t want you to think of this as a punishment, on the contrary, think of this as a blessing. You have the ability to live your life without the constraints of a predetermined lover holding you back. This is a gift that not many people are graced with, and it will lend to a perspective in life that will carry you far beyond anything that I could ever give you._ **

**_I do want you to know that I will think fondly of you, and that your messages will not be received negatively should you choose to still send them. My responses will never come, unfortunately, but know that I wish you no harm, and that I care deeply about your well-being. If you so choose, do write to me and let me know that you are okay, that you are living your life to the fullest extent. It would give me great pleasure to know that you have found yourself well in life._ **

**_Again, I apologize for the unfortunate circumstance of your soulmate having been me. I know that most would prefer a soulmate who actually wanted a soulmate, but life is, as some might say, unfair. The things we get handed in life are not always our preference, and this is something that is learned through many struggles throughout our lifetimes._ **

**_I will leave you with this, a quote from the poet Richard Siken, from his poem “Detail of the Woods.”_ **

**_“Everyone needs a place. It shouldn’t be inside of someone else.”_ **

**_I hope that you find yours and that it is somewhere comfortable. I hope that you can respect that your place is not with me, and I, in turn, will respect you enough to know that mine is not with you._ **

**_Best of luck,_ **

**_Logan_ **

Logan was proud of the final product, though he still wasn’t quite sure that it would be received well by his teacher. It was, however, the closest approximation to the truth that he could bear to give, which was good enough in his mind. If she was wanting something else, she would have to look towards another student.

He was exhausted, and for once he was  _ glad _ that he’d had multiple soulmates. At least he’d never have to write to them, they’d never be lonely, they’d never sit and wonder if and when their soulmate would write to them. They had each other, Logan was just an impartial bystander.

Somewhere deep in his chest he felt an ache that he tried his best to suppress.  _ They have each other, _ he told himself,  _ they don’t need me. I don’t want them anyway. Soulmates are for weak, emotional men. I am not weak or emotional. I am not selfish. I am  _ not  _ my father. _


	3. Movement

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He was shaking, his entire body feeling cold, sweat beading across his forehead. "I must be sick," he thought. "That’s all this is."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You might see I've got a bit of a theme going with the titles. This one is based on the song "Movement" by Hozier. I worked really hard on this chapter, and it's definitely longer than the last one was. I'm going to try to be updating on Fridays, but no promises.

Logan sat in the living room watching the news before school. Well,  _ watching  _ might not have been the most accurate word. The news was playing on the television in the background, and Logan was reading a wikipedia article about gravitational waves on his phone, which he found much more interesting.

He could still hear the TV but wasn’t paying much attention to it; it was just nice to have the extra background noise. They were talking about the skyrocketing rate of gun violence in the nearby city, and Logan was far too familiar with the topic. His mother  _ was _ a lawyer, after all. She might not have handled public defense cases, but she sure was familiar enough with the politics surrounding it. 

He went back to his reading about gravitational waves. It was a fascinating topic, something that had been predicted as part of Einstein’s Theory of General Relativity, which Logan had read quite a bit about, given his aptitude for physics. It wasn’t until fairly recently that the waves had been directly observed, though, and he found that both beautiful and daunting. There was still so much about the universe that the world did not know, and Logan loved it.

It wasn’t just gravitational waves and “dark” matter (though he took issue with the name, seeing as no one knew exactly  _ what _ it was), it was the hidden ninth planet in the solar system that had yet to be truly observed, but could be proven mathematically. It was life outside of the solar system. It was the prospect of living on Mars.

Dangerous as it might be, Logan couldn’t help but wish that he’d be on one of the rockets when the time finally came. So many opportunities lay far beyond Earth, and he wanted to be a part of it, part of something bigger. This planet, despite all it had to offer, had never felt like much of a home to Logan.

The television continued playing as Logan read, just a quiet background hum. He was vaguely aware of some celebrity being introduced as part of the morning show that was now starting. 

“Give it up for the star of Fox’s new movie _ The Dreamer’s Fire,  _ Roman Prince!” The host, Marsha, said, her voice dripping with fake excitement.

“Thank you!” Roman said, his voice much more cheery than Marsha’s. “It’s great to be here.”

“So Roman, I hear that this is your first feature film?”

“Yes! It’s actually my first film, not just feature.”

Marsha made a mocked gasp, as if she hadn’t asked the same questions to other guests hundreds of times. “Really? You’ve never acted before?”

“Well I wouldn’t say  _ that, _ ” Roman mused. “I started out acting in school plays, and I played Jack in the community production of  _ Into the Woods _ , but this is the first official role that I’ve had.”

“That is absolutely incredible!” The host chirped. “And to think, you’re only 16! How did you find your way into this role?”

Roman paused for a second, seeming to think his story over. “I’d been wanting to start acting professionally for a very, very long time, and I’d recently started working with an agent. She got the audition set up for me, and I gave it my best. I was actually really surprised to get a callback.”

“That’s wonderful. So tell me, in  _ The Dreamer’s Fire _ you play Rory Walker, a soulless young dancer looking for love?”

“Yes. Rory’s got a lot of passion, he’s an absolutely incredible dancer, if I do say so myself. He’s had a rough life, but he’s surviving the best that he can. He’s headstrong, and in the beginning, he doesn’t even really want to find someone,” Roman said, seemingly becoming lost in the story he was telling, “in fact, he believed that he was better off alone. After meeting Eleanor, though, his opinion starts to change.”

“Incredible,” the host repeated. “Roman, I’m sure everyone is dying to know, do you have a soulmate?”

“Yes, I have two, actually. Their names are Patton and Virgil, and they’re wonderful,” Roman said, and Logan’s eyes snapped up to the television, breath caught in his throat.

“Two?” Marsha asked, her eyes wide with shock. “That’s very rare! What are they like?”

Roman gave a big grin, and Logan felt something stir in his stomach. He wondered if he might be sick. “Patton’s really the absolute sweetest, he’s so funny and caring. He’s the kind who will never let you go without a meal, never let you leave the house without an umbrella, he’s thoughtful, considerate. Virgil, on the other hand, is a giant thorn in my side, and I absolutely love him for it. He likes to give me a hard time, and I’m guilty of doing the same to him. We really bring out the best in each other. He’s a little hesitant to speak his mind sometimes, but he’s brilliant, and he’s always got the best of ideas. He’s also an amazing violinist and poet, even if he doesn’t think so himself.”

Logan really did feel like he was going to be sick, but he held himself back. He studied Roman’s face, his brown eyes, curly brown hair, dark skin, completely transfixed. His shoulders were broad, and he had a huge smile on his face. He was wearing a red and white baseball shirt, with red floral print running down the sleeves. Something deep inside of Logan thought that Roman was beautiful, but he stifled it. He’d never thought that he’d see one of his soulmates, much less in  _ this  _ context.

“They sound wonderful,” the host told Roman. “Do you think they’re watching from home?”

“Of course!” Roman laughed, slightly dramatic, but genuine all the same. 

“Is there anything you’d like to say to them?”

“I would,” Roman said, turning to face directly at the camera. “Virgil, Patton, I love you both so much. I can’t wait until I finally get home and we can watch movies all night long, just like before.”

“That is just the cutest thing,” she said dreamily, before realizing how long the segment had already been. “We’re running out of time, but make sure to check out Roman Prince in  _ The Dreamer’s Fire _ this Friday! We’ll be right back after the break.”

Logan’s stomach churned again, and he felt himself running to the bathroom. He emptied his stomach into the toilet, his breakfast no longer agreeing to stay down. His mind was racing, and for the first time, Logan thought he could understand what a panic attack was like. 

He was shaking, his entire body feeling cold, sweat beading across his forehead.  _ I must be sick _ , he thought.  _ That’s all this is. It’s not from seeing Roman, I’ve just got the flu. _ He lay on the floor for several minutes, texting his mother to let her know to call in a pass for him at school that day. Since he was vomiting he wasn’t going to risk getting other students sick. 

A familiar tingling graced his left forearm, and Logan immediately jerked his sleeve up, so fast that the friction caused his arm to burn a little. There was writing, purple writing, and he  _ needed  _ to know what was being said. 

_ I love you too, asshole.  _

_ Virgil, that’s another dollar to the swear jar. Roman! You were incredible! We’re both so excited to be with you at the premiere!  _

Logan’s chest ached uncontrollably, likely due to the emesis. He wondered to himself what Patton and Virgil might look like. Roman was nothing like Logan had envisioned previously, and it made Logan rethink everything he’d ever thought of them. A part of him wondered what it would be like to reach out to them, what it would be like to have them as part of his life.

That metaphorical ship had definitely sailed, though, and Logan knew that it was far too late for him to be telling them now. Roman had just announced to the entire world that he only had  _ two _ soulmates, and that was how that would stay. 

Besides, he’d heard Roman. He loved Patton and Virgil, and they were happy. They were happy  _ without  _ Logan. They didn’t need him, they’d never even noticed his absence. 

Eventually Logan found his way back up the stairs, his body still cold and shaking. He’d feel better when he woke up, he thought. 

**_*********_ **

When Logan woke the sky was dark, and the sound of thunder filled the empty house. It was only noon, but the heavy clouds made it look as though the sun had already set. He stretched, his mind fuzzy, eyes tired and barely open.

He checked his phone to see that he had a text from his mother, who had let him know that she’d called the school to tell them that he wouldn’t be in, and had asked if he was doing okay. He sent a quick message back saying that he was fine and that he’d likely need her to pick up an oral rehydration solution, something like Pedialyte. 

His stomach felt better, but his mind was hazy. Logan tried to focus on something--anything--but all he could think of was Roman’s face. His chest still felt tight and he told himself again that it was just because of the vomiting, that it would be gone by the next day. Still, the image of Roman made the ache worse, and Logan was beginning to become concerned that he would not be able to distract himself.

He sat on the edge of his bed, head in his hands, breathing heavily. In for four seconds, hold for seven, exhale for eight. Repeat. Repeat. Repeat. He was okay, he just needed something to clear his mind, something to calm him down, he needed… Logan’s eyes drifted around his room, finally settling on his cello in the corner. 

_ Yes, _ Logan thought.  _ Playing always helps. _

When he’d situated himself, his fingers started playing without thought. He’d long considered Bach’s Cello Suite No. 1 as a comfort song, something he played when the days felt too short, the nights too long. His body was still shaking, giving the song a strange warbled quality.

It wasn’t until much later that he realized he’d been playing something else entirely, had been playing something he himself had written several months prior. The image of Roman’s face was still ingrained in his mind, and Logan realized that it was something he’d written for his soulmates, even if unintentionally. The ache in his chest was lessening, the gentle melody feeling almost like a blanket surrounding him. Logan wondered if others ever felt this way, felt the music they were playing creeping up their fingertips, through their arms, down into their chests. 

Music was funny like that, Logan thought. It was so  _ physical _ , the sound waves travelling through his whole body. The physical sensation was something Logan had become accustomed to over time, something he’d even, dare he say,  _ loved _ . His mind went blank except for the image of Roman that had been burned there earlier that morning, and Logan knew that his best--no, his only--option was to write. 

The entire afternoon rest in front of him, littered with sour notes and wrong turns, but also sweet, dark melodies. The pressure in his chest returned, this time with a vengeance, and Logan felt his breathing hitch again. It hurt, it was hard to inhale, but slowly he pushed through it, forcing himself to continue, the notes ringing out in F Minor, then E Minor. Eventually the feeling subsided once more, slowly at first, then all at once, and the music took a soft turn towards D Major. 

Logan wrote the notes as he played, occasionally replaying sections, rewriting them to flow better with the others. His fingers were sore, his arms tired, his mind exhausted, but his chest was no longer sore. The weight that pressed upon him was no longer there, and the thought of Roman, while still present, no longer felt like eternal damnation.

When he’d finally finished, Logan put his cello away and set off in search of dinner, having realized that he’d only eaten breakfast, most of which he’d lost. His phone read 18:12, and he realized that his mother should be home from work sometime relatively soon. She’d have questions, and Logan wasn’t sure what he was going to tell her. Just that he’d been sick that morning, that he’d slept and it had helped him to feel better, he supposed. 

The rest didn’t really matter. There would be no mentions of Roman, no mentions of the news that morning, and definitely no mentions of the movie that Logan now was tempted to watch upon its’ release. 

**_*********_ **

The movie theater was crowded, and Logan was surprised by the amount of noise in the lobby. He’d never actually been inside of a theater before, but he’d always assumed that it would be much quieter, so as not to disturb those whose movies had already started. 

He didn’t know exactly what he was doing there, why his body had moved without permission to stand in front of the box office, buying a ticket to see  _ The Dreamer’s Fire. _ Logan didn’t particularly like most movies. Sure, there had been a few that he’d enjoyed, but for the most part he just didn’t understand the appeal of cinema.

Despite his best efforts, though, his mind wouldn’t rest until he’d seen Roman’s movie. He couldn’t get the idea out of his mind, and the fact that he was there made him feel sick to his stomach. This was taking it much, much too far. 

Spending years reading private messages between Roman and his soulmates was bad enough, but now Logan was standing in a theater to watch him perform on a screen. He wasn’t sure, but Logan thought that that might have qualified as “stalking” in some minds. His mind repeatedly attempted to justify this, though, because Roman had made a public movie, and Logan was paying to see it. He wasn’t  _ stealing, _ he wasn’t  _ stalking,  _ he was just watching a movie of someone he happened to know very well, despite the fact that Roman didn’t know him at all.

He found his way into the proper auditorium and took a seat near the exit, promising himself that he wouldn’t stay for the entirety of the film. Just long enough to see Roman on set, just long enough to hear his voice again. Then Logan would leave, and he could put the entire situation behind him. He just needed some form of closure, something to put his mind at ease.

The movie started much later than had been posted, and Logan found himself slightly bothered by the lack of accuracy with the scheduling. For an industry that relied so heavily on a schedule, he would’ve thought that the film would have started on time. He reminded himself not to nitpick, but it was one of his better talents. Despite knowing it was meant to be an insult, Logan had become accustomed to the nickname “Buzzkill” that had been given to him Freshman year.

The movie opened in a dance studio, with a sequence of shots of Roman dancing. The longer that Logan watched, the more surprised he was by how much he was drawn into the story. His promise to leave shortly after the movie had started faded from his mind, and instead Logan stayed, eye watching the screen intently.

Rory, who was Roman’s character, was a soulless teenager who had had a rough life. His parents had passed away in a fire when he was a child, and he lived with his grandparents, who were both very sick. He’d dropped out of high school to work and take care of them, and he spent his rare amounts of free time at his childhood dance studio, where he met Eleanor. 

Eleanor was a few years older than Rory and had recently moved to LA, where the movie took place. She’d been hired as an instructor at the studio, where she’d often see Rory practicing. She was soulless, too, and they instantly found a connection with each other, but Rory was headstrong and very adamant that he didn’t want a relationship. There was already so much going on in his life, he didn’t want the added stress of trying to make Eleanor happy.

As the movie progressed, they began to find comfort in each other, and they were selected for a  _ pas de deux  _ together at a recital, which brought them even closer together. Right before their performance, though, Rory’s grandfather passed away, and he was left with the burden of having to handle the funeral arrangements. He had to take up another job just to help pay for the funeral costs and the costs of his grandmother’s accumulating medical bills. Rory’s understudy was given his part instead, and Rory accepted that he would never be able to live out his dream of being a professional dancer.

At the end, though, Eleanor came back to him, and asked him to do one final performance together. They’d be performing in front of a large audience, and there would be agents there who were looking to contract new dancers. Rory eventually agreed, and the two performed their duet together. Eleanor kissed Rory after their performance had ended, and that had led them into a long, happy relationship. The final scenes showed Rory and Eleanor, now professional dancers, shooting a music video for a popular artist. They both seemed very happy, and the movie ended there.

Logan wasn’t sure about the ending, he was confused a little but the abruptness of it. Art films were usually like that, he thought, and to the best of his knowledge, this was an art film. Furthermore, life didn’t end after the movie was finished, and it was nice to see some form of acknowledgment of that. When he realized that he’d stayed through the entire film, he was surprised by himself. 

As he waited for his cab, Logan’s mind ran rampant with thoughts of Roman. His dancing was, at least in Logan’s opinion, incredible, and his acting was so believable. Logan had never seen a movie that had been so captivating to him, and he was genuinely impressed with Roman’s skills. His mind begged him to write something, anything, to Roman, to congratulate him on such a spectacular performance, but Logan knew that he couldn’t. He didn’t  _ really _ want to, he told himself. It was just the excitement of finally having seen a movie he’d liked.

On the drive home, though, Logan was ashamed to admit that he’d found the movie’s soundtrack online, and was listening to it through his headphones. The gentle melody of piano, violin, and cello rang out from the first track, the 4th movement of Chopin’s Piano Trio Op. 8. His mind seemed to dance across the notes, and somewhere deep inside of him, Logan promised himself that he would learn to play that song.

**_*********_ **

Logan’s next few weeks were a busy haze of college applications, auditions, tests, and rehearsals. The upcoming winter program was a stressful one that Logan wasn’t entirely sure that he was ready for. They’d done Vivaldi’s “Winter” every year since the 1980s, and this year was no different. Thankfully for Logan, it wasn’t the most taxing song for cello, and the actual difficulty of it was left to the violinists. “The Little Match Girl” was easily his favorite, but it did have a heavier focus on the cello than the previous. He’d learned all of the parts of every song, but he still didn’t feel quite prepared. 

His college applications had all been sent, he’d even had a few auditions for their music programs, and he was just waiting to hear back about them. It wasn’t much of a question whether or not he would get accepted academically--Logan was an exceptional student--but more of a question as to whether or not his age would be an issue. He’d be 16 starting his freshman year, and he knew that some schools wouldn’t allow him to live on campus until he was legally an adult.

Logan wasn’t wanting to take two whole years off of school just so he would be allowed to live on campus, though, and he knew that his mother wouldn’t be willing to move to give him the best chance at an education. She had her own things to deal with, major lawsuits and policy changes, all of which were in his hometown. Expecting her to leave, to give up her job for him, that was out of the question.

He’d also applied to several schools that were nearby, but he wasn’t particularly keen on those. They were okay schools at best, but Logan knew he’d do much better at a different school, somewhere further off, somewhere with more difficult curriculum. None of that really mattered at that moment, though. He would just have to wait to see what the schools said.

Logan sat behind the library during lunch, eating the sandwich he’d packed that morning. His lunches were always spent behind the library, as he’d learned his freshman year that the cafeteria could be a dangerous place, and that it was much too loud for him. No one ever went to the school library, and even if they did, the silence would remain. It was peaceful.

Out of the window he could see the snow piled high on the ground, nearly 12 inches worth. It was almost blinding with the sun glinting back off of it, but Logan thought it was pretty. Picturesque, perhaps. He’d seen kids play in the snow dozens of times, though he’d never been allowed to do it. 

“It’s too messy,” his mother would say. “Besides, you don’t want to get sick, do you?”

Logan had often wondered if perhaps he was missing out. He’d watch his classmates and neighbors throwing balls of snow at each other. He’d watched them build snowmen, build igloos, make snow angels, but he’d never do so himself. 

The snow outside the window was pristine, completely untouched by humans. Logan could see loose particles drifting across the surface when the wind blew, showing just how lightly packed the snow was. It looked soft, though Logan knew that that wasn’t quite true. Snow could actually cause scrapes and cuts in some cases, and he’d learned that the hard way one winter, after taking a particularly rough fall down the steps outside of his house.

“This is why we don’t go outside in the snow unless it’s necessary,” his mother told him. “Now stop crying, you’ll be alright.”

The more he thought about it, the more he remembered his mother chastising him as a child for things like that. He remembered once in elementary school that a classmate had thrown sand into his eyes, and he remembered coming home from school crying, begging his mother not to make him go back. The look on her face was something that Logan had never forgotten. 

“You’re a big boy, Logan, and you have to go back to school. These kids are mean, you just have to let them be mean. Don’t talk to them, don’t engage with them, eventually they’ll get bored and they’ll leave you alone. If you run away, if you yell at them, get upset, or cry, you’re letting them win. You don’t want to let them win, you’re better than that. So stop crying, suck it up, and get back out there. You don’t want to be like your father, do you?”

Somehow the conversations always turned to that. Logan didn’t want to be like his father. He’d do anything to be a better man than his father was. Even if it meant sacrificing things that he’d wanted, or doing things that he hated. Logan wasn’t going to let his mother down, that was out of the question. She’d raised him better than that, and Logan was determined to act like it.

The bell finally rang, and Logan headed back towards the main hallway to his next class. As he walked, he heard someone mention  _ The Dreamer’s Fire _ and the weight in his chest briefly returned. He didn’t want to accept it, but he was beginning to admit that the feeling might not have been caused entirely by his illness. Idly, he wondered if the feeling would ever actually go away, or if he’d be stuck forever aching when Roman Prince’s name was mentioned.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Big thank you to everyone who's commented/liked/bookmarked so far! It really helps me to know what I'm doing well and whether or not the story is worth continuing! It means the world to me, and I really appreciate it.


	4. Cleopatra

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He had, however, become acutely aware of the violin soloist, and the effortless way he took on the new music. It was like he’d already known it, and had already put his own spin on the song.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter's title is based on the song "Cleopatra" by The Lumineers. This one is definitely shorter than the last few, but I promise that the following ones will be much longer. I might have an extra chapter up this weekend if things pan out, but no promises.  
> Also quick warning for this chapter, there are some generalized mentions of the fear of death and dying. It's pretty brief, though and is right at the beginning of the chapter. If you need to skip over these just skip down to the 5th paragraph and all should be good.

Logan was running late for his rehearsal, but it wasn’t his fault. He’d left early, as he always did, but an accident on the highway left his Lyft stranded in the middle lane, unable to move. He’d called his director twice already, and left a voicemail on the second try. 

He couldn’t see very far ahead of him, though he knew the accident must have been about another half mile ahead, based on the distance he was from the smoke that he could see rising into the sky. The accident must have been a particularly bad one, as the smoke was thick and dark. Logan wondered what had happened, and if everyone had survived. 

When he was young, Logan was terrified of cars for that exact reason. Too much uncertainty, too much danger. Human lives are precious, and cars were large, quick-moving death machines. Any reasonable person would be afraid of that.

To be fair, there was only one thing that had ever truly scared Logan, and that was the inevitability of death. He knew that it shouldn’t have, that it was a part of the life cycle and that everyone and everything would eventually die, but still, Logan was terrified of it. The chances of survival were extremely low, and Logan felt guilty for ever taking advantage of that. He was careful in nearly every situation, but life continued to move and sometimes, without his permission, his life would somehow wind up in the territory of “dangerous” once again.

Eventually the traffic started moving again, and Logan had ended up only missing about 20 minutes of rehearsal. Thankfully his director was understanding, and Logan had only really missed the warm-ups, and a small conversation about the new pieces they were going to be starting. He’d never seen The Phantom of the Opera, but he was familiar with the title via one of Roman’s long musical rants and the multitude of “Best musical” lists that he’d written over the past several years.

“We’ve already picked our soloists for the Phantom of the Opera Medley,” the director said. “Congratulations to Adam Farraway, Logan Sanders, Virgil Lawson, and Virginia Miles.” He continued on speaking, talking about several other pieces they would be performing for their spring concert, but Logan’s mind had already tuned him out.

He looked over the sheet music and was fascinated to find that rather than just being a solo, it appeared as though his part would be a duet with one of the other soloists mentioned. He wasn’t sure who was who, or who played what instrument, but he couldn’t help but assume that’d he’d be finding out over the next few rehearsals, if not that same day. He’d never had a duet with a violinist before, and the prospect of it was rather exciting.

As they practiced, the director made several changes to the music, and Logan found himself scribbling different notes across his sheets. The Phantom of the Opera Medley wasn’t the most technically challenging music that Logan had ever read, but the director had a different idea. Instead of playing at the normal tempo, the song had been sped up, and they were playing it--thanks to the violin soloist--much more aggressively than the original sheet music called for. 

Logan actually liked the arrangement and found himself enjoying the way the notes matched together. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he couldn’t help but wonder if watching the actual musical would be useful to him in some way while learning that particular piece. He’d never been much for musicals--he just couldn’t understand why the characters were stopping to sing silly songs--but he supposed that it might be worth a try. 

He still wasn’t sure which person had what part, but it had become clear to him that the young woman who was chosen as a soloist--Veronica or Valerie or something--was the trombonist. The others were still a mystery to him, but that didn’t particularly matter. It had never been much of a priority for him to learn the names of his fellow musicians.

He had, however, become acutely aware of the violin soloist, and the effortless way he took on the new music. It was like he’d already known it, and had already put his own spin on the song.

Logan wasn’t easily impressed, but the violinist had such a delicate touch, something that Logan had always felt he’d lacked. The way that the other played left chills running down his back, the slight aggression to his bowing making Logan wonder just what this song had meant to him, where he’d heard it before, and what kind of memories it evoked. The director had liked his rendition enough to  _ change _ the entire tone of the song, which had to have meant something, though he couldn’t place exactly what.

When the rehearsal was finally over, Logan quickly packed his things and headed towards his Lyft. As he walked, he kept his eyes towards the floor, hoping to avoid any conversations or congratulations for his achievements. It wasn’t the first solo he’d had, and when his peers congratulated him, it often felt spiteful. It was something that Logan was far too familiar with, having been ridiculed so heavily throughout middle and high school. No matter what he did, his peers never seemed to believe that he deserved any of the rewards that he’d worked so hard for. 

Parts of him still hurt at the thought of that, but he pushed the thoughts to the back of his mind. Teenagers were cruel, Logan had learned that the hard way. All he could do was hope that eventually the feeling would go away and that others would see the amount of work that he’d put in for his accomplishments. Unfortunately for Logan, that didn’t feel like something that would ever come.

**_*********_ **

Logan sat in the back corner of Calypso’s Café drinking an elderflower kombucha tea. It was a shop specialty, and one of his go-to orders. Despite the fact that he wasn’t much for public places, something about Calypso’s felt comforting to Logan, and he’d often spend his weekend afternoons reading a book by the back window. The cafe was almost always quiet, as it was tucked away off the main roads, on a residential street.

It was a small building that looked like it was at one point a house, but had been renovated for business. The walls were painted a soft light green color, and the floor-length curtains were ivory. On most afternoons it smelled of freshly brewed coffee, but in the mornings the scent of freshly baked pastries filled the entire building.

He’d often stop by in the mornings when his mother had neglected to buy groceries for a little too long. Their muffins were surprisingly good, and they since they weren’t terribly busy, the lines were never very long when he was in a rush to make it to school on time. It was easily his favorite spot in town, and whenever he felt stressed and needed to be away from home, Calypso’s was his number one retreat.

On Wednesday’s the Café had poetry readings, but Logan had never actually been to one. He’d heard several people talk about them, and a few employees had suggested it to him as well, but he’d never bothered to take the time to go. Wednesday’s he usually had orchestra rehearsals, anyway, and despite his chronic insomnia, Logan didn’t enjoy staying out terribly late. With the roads so dark, especially now that it was winter, he just couldn’t convince himself to go.

“There’s more than just poetry,” one of the baristas, Madelynn, had said to him once. “Some people sing songs they’ve written. We’ve got one guy who comes with his soulmates and plays piano almost every week. It’s a lot of fun, you should give it a try sometime.”

“I’m not sure,” Logan told her. “It’s probably really crowded, and I’m already so busy on Wednesdays.”

Madelynn laughed, her curly red hair falling into her eyes. “It’s up to you, but I’d really like to see you there sometime.”

He hadn’t thought much of it until later, but he couldn’t help but wonder if she might’ve been trying to ask him on a date. Of course, that idea seemed ridiculous to him, and he couldn’t help but laugh about it. She was likely just trying to get more customers and spectators for their spoken word nights. 

He was still sitting in the back of the Café when he noticed the first chair violinist from the orchestra enter, his purple hair a mess atop his head. He was wearing a long-sleeved purple shirt that Logan vaguely remembered having seen him in before, and instead of immediately approaching the counter, he stood back several feet, studying the menu posted above. Eventually he must’ve decided on what he’d wanted, and he approached the counter slowly, speaking quietly enough that Logan couldn’t hear him, despite the fact that he could hear the barista clearly.

The man looked around at the tables and settled on one not far from where Logan was sitting. Logan told himself to stop staring, but couldn’t quite convince himself not to. The man, whose name he still wasn’t quite sure of, was someone that Logan had thought about often over the past few days. The way he played haunted Logan’s thoughts, crept into his dreams, and as strange as it sounded, he really wanted to know more about him. It wasn’t easy for his thoughts to become so consumed by someone, and if Logan was being honest, this was the first time it had ever happened about someone he’d seen in person. It was a new scenario for him and that excited him, while at the same time concerning him.

Logan tore his eyes away from the man, settling back on his drink. He’d forgotten to bring a book that afternoon, which was uncharacteristic of him. He’d been so excited about receiving a letter from one of the schools that he’d applied to, only to then find out that he wouldn’t be able to attend because of his age. He’d left the house in a hurry, needing to give himself some space from his own thoughts. 

So instead of reading he just found himself people-watching, lost in thought about one thing or another. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw one of the employees had the man his drink, and heard him quietly thank them.

The man sat silently for several minutes, occasionally sipping his drink, but mostly reading something on his phone screen. He didn’t seem to be talking to anyone, and he didn’t seem like he was actively avoiding someone starting a conversation with him. If he had been, Logan supposed that he would’ve been wearing headphones, or reading from a book. Instead, the man alternated between reading from his phone and looking out over the café, eyes idly scanning the small crowd.

“You’re the violin soloist for The Phantom of the Opera, right?” Logan asked, against his better judgment. He’d not even had time to actually think it through before his body was moving, his lips speaking without his permission.

“Uh, yeah,” the man said, slightly confused. “I’m Virgil, you are…?”

Logan was taken aback at the name but chose to ignore it. Plenty of people had the same names as his soulmates, and he’d met several over the years. If he worried at every introduction, he’d waste his life in fear of every conversation. “Logan,” he replied, “I’m the cellist.”

“Well, hey, that’s cool I guess. You, uh, you’re the first chair cello, right?”

“Yes,” Logan said. “I don’t believe I’d seen you before the winter concert, did you just move here?”

Virgil shook his head, his shoulders visibly tense. “No, I’ve been part of the orchestra for the last three years.”

Embarrassment washed over Logan at that. He felt as though he should have known that, should’ve seen Virgil prior to the winter concert. “Oh,” he said, not sure what to say. He didn’t hesitate long before saying, “I can’t say I really know anyone else there, that’s probably why I hadn’t seen you before.”

Virgil’s dark, almond eyes looked Logan over carefully, his shoulders relaxing slightly. “I’m not the most, uh,  _ talkative, _ ” he said. “I was pretty sure Mr. Dunwin didn’t even know I existed until he called my name on Tuesday.”

Logan couldn’t help but chuckle at that. He knew exactly how Virgil felt, being invisible in the situations where it mattered. It seemed like the only kind of attention Logan drew to himself was negative. “I think he made a good choice.”

“Thanks. Just wish it would’ve been any other song, you know?”

“What do you mean?”

Virgil laughed, a slightly crooked grin breaking out over his face. “My soulmate was  _ obsessed _ with The Phantom of the Opera about two years back. We must’ve listened to that soundtrack non-stop for six months. I love him, don’t get me wrong, but there was a point where I thought I’d throw him out of a moving car if I ever had to hear one of those stupid songs again.”

Logan wasn’t sure exactly how to respond to that, so he just laughed. “That explains why you sounded so angry that first night. Mr. Dunwin seemed to like that, though.”

“I’ll just be glad when it’s over,” Virgil said and turned back to his coffee. “If you want we could, um, practice together sometime?”

“Sure,” Logan told him. They worked out details, and Logan gave Virgil his phone number. The name still felt strange to Logan, like he should have been running away, but he silenced that part of himself. Running away was no good, he reminded himself. Running away was for cowards, and Logan was no coward. Besides, he’d heard Virgil mention his  _ soulmate _ , singular. Logan had nothing to worry about.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Also thanks to everyone giving feedback! It means a lot to me and I'm really glad that so many of you have taken a liking to this so far. I'm working to get updates out as regularly as possible. If you have any questions you can feel free to leave a comment or send me a message on my Tumblr page quentin-speaks.tumblr.com
> 
> I'd also like to note that the particular version of The Phantom of the Opera that I've been referencing while writing this was the Lindsey Sterling version, though I did look into several different arrangements to help decide on what particular instruments to give solos. 
> 
> Finally, the Calypso's Café is based very heavily on the Dandelion Communitea Café in Orlando Florida. When I lived in Orlando that place was like a second home to me, and I couldn't describe a café without at least somewhat basing it off of that one. Just felt like it deserved an honorable mention for being literally the coolest place and having some of the best tea and lunch wraps I've ever had, as well as a really awesome community with spoken word poetry every week. 10/10 would suggest


	5. Waves

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Logan had never seen her like this before. He’d never seen his mother cry, he’d never seen her even slightly upset, which meant that something must have been terribly, horribly wrong.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is titled after the song "Waves" by Chloe Moriondo, specifically the piano version from the "Animal Kingdom: Comet" collab with Cavetown.  
> A warning for this chapter, there are several mentions of the death of a minor character throughout the chapter. There's nothing graphic describing what happened, just the mention of their passing and the way that it's affecting the other characters.

Logan woke to his mother screaming, and before he knew it he was on his feet, running out of his room towards hers.

When he found her in the bathroom, she was standing half-naked in front of the mirror, staring intently at her reflection, breathing rapid and shaky. Logan quickly averted his eyes, and as soon as he did his mother sat roughly on the floor, sobs leaving her lips.

Logan had never seen her like this before. He’d never seen his mother cry, he’d never seen her even slightly upset, which meant that something must have been terribly, horribly wrong. 

“Why…” she whispered, her voice coming out broken. “Why?” This time she was louder, and as she repeated again, “Why?” her voice became even louder until she was repeating the word again and again, screaming. “Why?”

Logan was at a loss. He had no idea what to do, no idea how to comfort her. He wasn’t even entirely sure what had happened. He stole a quick glance in her direction and saw that she was sitting with her shoulders hunched, her back to him, knees pulled tightly to her chest.

“Mom?” Logan asked, voice barely above a whisper so as not to startle her. “What happened?”

She tensed, a heavy sob causing her body to shake further. “Why would someone do this?” she asked, almost as if to herself.

“Do what?”

His mother turned to look at him, her eyes bright red and puffy, and when doing so, Logan caught a glimpse of her chest.

A black heart with an  _ X  _ crossed through it was marked against her pale skin, right over her heart. 

His mother had had a soulmate.

“What kind of monster…” she whispered. “Why would anyone do this to someone?”

His mother had never  _ known  _ that she’d had a soulmate.

Logan stood in shock, unsure of what to do, of what direction to move in. His mind was racing as he tried to piece together what was actually going on. Had his mother really never known that she’d had a soulmate? Had they just never contacted her at all? 

“What kind of monster never tells their soulmate that they exist?” She screamed. Her fists were clenched tightly shut around her arms, making the skin around them turn white. 

“I… I don’t know,” Logan finally replied, at a complete loss for words. His mother had always seemed so independent. She’d always said she didn’t care about soulmates, about partners or relationships. She was the strongest person he’d ever met, and he wasn’t sure what to do to comfort her.

“43 years!” She yelled, her voice echoing sharply off of the bathroom walls. “43 years and I’ve thought this whole time that they didn’t even exist! I thought I was alone!” She was still shaking, even harder now, but Logan was beginning to think that it was no longer from crying, and instead just from rage. “How the  _ hell _ did I never know? Why like this?”

Her hands dropped to her sides, and she rested her head on her knees. “I didn’t want to be alone,” she whispered.

“You always said...” Logan’s voice trailed off. His mother had always said she didn’t even  _ want _ a soulmate. Throughout his entire life she’d preached that, again and again. She’s always said that she’d never let her lack of a soulmate hold her back. Had that all been a lie? “You always said you didn’t want one.”

“That’s a load of shit, Logan,” she snapped, her voice much harsher than she’d likely meant. Logan flinched slightly, glad that his mother hadn’t been looking so she wouldn’t chastise him for it. Her voice came out more gently as she said, “Everyone  _ wants  _ a soulmate.”

“You’re better off without one,” Logan told her, repeating the words he’d told himself more times than he could count, the words  _ she’d  _ told him dozens of times. 

“No one is better off alone.” She reached for a scrap of toilet paper to wipe her eyes. “There’s a reason so many soulless people match together,” she said. “No one wants to be alone, Logan. Humans aren’t  _ meant _ to be alone.”

He felt his chest begin to ache, and he tried his best to shake it. It didn’t matter what his mother was saying, it didn’t matter what she thought. He was meant to be alone, he was happier alone. Of course he was happier alone! No one to rely on him, no one to ask him questions he couldn’t answer, no one to… It didn’t matter. He didn’t need soulmates. He didn’t want them, he was  _ better _ than that. His mother had taught him that. She’d taught him of the strength he had alone, how being soulless could be such a blessing. Logan felt stronger than his mother, too, now that he’d found out that she’d secretly wanted a soulmate all along.

“I do,” Logan finally said, softly. “I want to be alone.”

“I’m sorry,” his mother said, recognition dawning across her face. “I didn’t mean…”

“It’s fine,” Logan told her, his voice coming out more harshly than he’d meant. It wasn’t her fault, he told himself. She didn’t know any better, she didn’t know about his situation. The words still stung, though.

“I just meant… What kind of person… What kind of  _ monster _ goes their whole life without telling their soulmate that they exist, only to let them find out when they die?”

“I don’t know,” Logan said, his mind going dark.

_What kind of monster goes their whole life without reaching out to their soulmates?_ He thought. He tried to force his mind in another direction, but it was too late. The thought was echoing through his mind again and again, louder each time. _Monster_ , his brain told him. _Monster. Horrible person. Liar. You’re hurting your soulmates. How could you do that? Do you not care about anyone? What’s wrong with you? You’re a monster. Monster._ _Monster. Monster._

 

**_*********_ **

 

Logan sat at the bottom of his bathtub, shower pouring scalding water over his body. The lights were out through the entire house and it was well past midnight. Logan’s mind wouldn’t let him sleep, wouldn’t let him relax. He’d lain in bed for hours trying to silence his thoughts, but every time he’d come close something else would creep up.

_ You’re hurting them,  _ his mind would say.  _ You’re lying to them by omission. You’re lying to everyone. You lied to your mom. All of these years, lying again and again. What was that you used to say? You didn’t like to intentionally lie? Funny, considering your current circumstance. _

The image of a black heart, an  _ X  _ marked through it flashed through Logan’s mind.  _ What will they do when you die? They’d never have even known. They’ll feel just like your mother does right now. How could you do that to someone? _

Logan was breathing heavily, eyes unable to adjust to the darkness around him. Somehow it felt secure, as if he’d wrapped himself in a heavy blanket. The thoughts kept coming, but they couldn’t hurt him here. Nothing mattered in the dark abyss of his bathroom, nothing entered and nothing left. It was quiet, just the sound of the rushing water, the sound of his own breathing, his own heartbeat. 

_ They deserve to know,  _ his mind said.

“It doesn’t matter,” Logan whispered, his voice coming out strained, just barely audible over the rush of the water. “They have each other, it’s different.”

_ Different. Of course it’s different, because you don’t  _ want  _ a soulmate. That’s right, _ he thought, a strange sort of malice slipping into thoughts. 

“I don’t.”

_ Of course you don’t. Your mother didn’t either, right? That’s why she  _ married  _ your father? Love is unimportant, isn’t it, Logan? _

His thoughts couldn’t hurt him here, he told himself.  None of it mattered. It was dark, it was silent, it was empty. His thoughts had no bearing on him, no actual consequence. Somewhere inside of him Logan knew that this wasn’t exactly true, his thoughts were his and they would be with him no matter what, but he told himself again and again that as long as the water was running and the lights were off, everything he thought and said would stay in the abyss.

“I don’t need the universe to pick a mate for me, much less three of them.”

_ Yet it did, and there are three, aren’t there? You feel guilty, don’t you? Your mother and your father both soulless, and yet you have multiple? Or, well… maybe not your mother, it turns out. What sort of monster goes their whole life without telling their soulmate that they exist, anyway? _

“I don’t  _ feel  _ anything,” Logan said, slightly louder this time. He could hear himself a little more clearly over the water, but not much. “And not wanting a soulmate doesn’t make someone a monster. Not talking to them doesn’t make me a monster.”

_ That isn’t what your mom seems to think, is it? 43 years she’s been alone, all because of them. How hurt would Patton, Virgil, and Roman be? Seeing that  _ X  _ over their hearts, never having even known you existed? _

“It’s different. They have each other, Mom has no one.”

_ Oh, but she didn’t want a soulmate, isn’t that what she said? All those years, your whole life growing up? She didn’t want one, she didn’t need one. Yet you knew that was a lie, didn’t you? _

“No.”

_ You knew. Why would she have been with your father if she’d never wanted a partner? _

“Maybe she wanted kids,” he said, but his voice faltered. He knew that that wasn’t true. His mom had told him multiple times that she’d never wanted children. That was what his father had wanted, not her. 

Why was he arguing with himself? When had he become this person? It didn’t matter, it was in the abyss, nothing left the abyss. He could be honest here, couldn’t he?

_ That is a lie. You can’t lie to me, I’m you. _

“She had to have wanted kids,” he stated, much louder this time. He cursed himself, reminding himself that his mother was asleep in the other room and he needed not to wake her. “She wanted me.”

_ Your father was the one who wanted children,  _ he thought, the voice in his head sounding exactly like his mother.  _ But he ran away the second he found out about you.  _

“She wouldn’t have kept me if she didn’t want me.”

_ Unless she thought she could get something from you. _

“That’s absurd, she’s my mother. She loves me, in her own way.”

_ That’s the problem, isn’t it? Her own way… But really, why would she have been with your father if she didn’t want kids? _

Logan’s mind turned over, again and again. The gears in his head felt like they were grinding, his brain fuzzy and numbed by the hot water. Why  _ was _ she with his father? “She didn’t want to be alone,” he said finally. That was what she’d said that morning, and it must’ve been true. Logan had known it all along, for years, but he’d never admitted to it. Of course his mother didn’t want to be alone.

_ Of course she didn’t. No one wants to be alone. Not even you. _

“I do.”

_ You can lie to her, but you can’t lie to me.  _

“This is stupid,” Logan said, but made no effort to stand, no effort to break from the dark abyss surrounding him. “I’m better off alone, whether I like it or not.”

_ That’s not what the universe says. _

“I don’t give a _ shit _ about what the universe says!” Logan cursed himself again, voice coming out louder and more harshly than he’d intended. He was tired of his own thoughts, tired of lying to himself, tired of trying to keep himself together. He was just absolutely exhausted and angry.

_ If you don’t care, then why have you been reading all of their messages for the last four years? Why do you have a box filled with Virgil’s poems? Why did you stay and watch Roman’s entire movie? _

Logan stopped, his mind strikingly clear.  _ Why?  _ Why  _ had _ he done those things? Why did he have a box tucked under his bed with every poem he’d ever seen Virgil write placed into it? Why had he watched  _ The Dreamer’s Fire  _ all of the way through? If he really didn’t care about them at all, why did he act as if he did? Why did he suppress the part of himself that actively cared?

That was the key, Logan realized. He did care, and there was no denying it any longer. He cared about his soulmates, he cared about their well-being, he cared about them, all of them. It didn’t mean that anything had to change, though. He’d already hurt them, whether he wanted to admit it or not. If he had told them when they were younger that he’d existed, maybe things would be different, but now, Logan knew that it didn’t matter. If they found out now it would hurt them, and if they found out later, after Logan’s eventual passing, it would likely hurt less.

Slowly, so as not to lose his balance, Logan stood and finally turned the water off. His arm reached out blindly to turn the light on, and he emerged from the abyss. His mind was finally quiet, just like the house surrounding him. He dried himself off, placed on a pair of clean pyjamas, and headed back towards his room.

 

**_*********_ **

 

The solution was so simple, and Logan was surprised he hadn’t thought of it. Of course he couldn’t write directly to his soulmates, but there was nothing stopping him from writing indirectly to them. That journal assignment for his writing class might not have been the most useless assignment after all.

Logan sat at his desk, pen and paper in hand, trying to find the best words to write. Sure, he’d done this once before, but this wasn’t the same. This was for him, not for an assignment, not for anyone else to read. He couldn’t deny to himself any longer the way that he felt, and this was to let him process that in some small way.

He felt stupid. His entire life he’d been denying himself the pleasure of knowing his soulmates, and now it was far too late. They would never forgive him, and Logan knew that trying to contact them would end very badly for him. They were happy now, and to upset that balance would have been wrong, Logan thought. He’d already hurt them either way, but at least he could save them the heartache of knowing him.

His mind fumbled over the words, finding it difficult to express what he thought he was feeling. In a way, he’d been writing to them all along, through his songs. Music was so much easier, though. The notes resonated a certain way and Logan could feel it, more so than he could anything else, and he knew that others had to have felt that too. Words, on the other hand, were complicated, messy. They came out wrong or misplaced, and part of that scared Logan. It was far too easy to hurt someone with words.

It was easy to hurt someone with a lack of words, too, though, and Logan’s mind shot him a violent jolt at that thought. He’d have to learn to accept that things wouldn’t be so easy, so cut and dry from then on. His whole life Logan had been running, hiding from something, but hiding now was useless.  _ You can’t lie to me, I’m you, _ he had told himself, and that, of course, was true. Sometimes there were things that Logan didn’t want to know about himself, but once it was revealed, well, there was no more denying it. 

Finding the right words wasn’t easy, and Logan felt like he must’ve started over a dozen times. He’d watched his soulmates’ conversations for nearly five years, never once having spoken to them, which made it hard for him to know where to start. Eventually, though, the dam finally broke, and Logan was able to write at least part of what he’d been really wanting to say all along.

**_Roman,_ **

**_I’d never imagined that I would see your face, much less did I expect to see you on television during an interview. I’ve seen your drawings, read your story ideas, and I have to say that I’ve been impressed this whole time. You’re funny, in your own strange way, and I can’t say that you haven’t made me laugh._ **

**_I had never been to a movie theater before watching your film, so know that it was no easy feat to convince me to go, and yet, somehow, without ever having spoken to me, you did. It was an incredible movie, too, and I’ve listened to the soundtrack more times than I can count since then. I’ve even taken it upon myself to learn Chopin’s Piano Trio op. 8, IV Finale Allegretto. I’m sure that the music wasn’t your choice in the film, but I do hope that you enjoyed the songs chosen._ **

**_I can’t help but hope that one day I get to meet you, and though you may not know that I am one of your soulmates, I hope that we might be friends. I’ve never really had friends, but the idea sounds nice, and from what I know of you, you seem like a good person. Maybe you could show me some of those Disney classics you and Virgil seem to love so much._ **

**_Yours truly,_ **

**_Logan_ **

After the first letter, Logan couldn’t help but wish to write Patton and Virgil, too. Despite having never seen them, Logan did feel as if he knew them in a way. He’d read so many of their conversations, he couldn’t help feel as if he was a ghost, watching them from afar, but never having been able to interact. 

**_Patton,_ **

**_I miss seeing your drawings, and I can’t help but wonder what made you stop? They were, for a long time, something I looked forward to at the end of the day. I hope that you haven’t given up drawing completely, you seemed to have a talent for it._ **

**_I still remember the time you broke your arm while trying to jump off of the swing when I was 13. You were so frustrated that you couldn’t see what Roman and Virgil were writing under your cast that you started drawing on your feet just to tickle them. Just so you know, you were tickling me as well, and trying to explain why I couldn’t stop laughing at the dinner table was a nightmare. My mother was so confused, and I couldn’t even begin to think of a reasonable explanation for what was happening. In the end, I told her I’d been thinking of a book I’d read, and she seemed to believe it._ **

**_It’s not that I’m ashamed of you, nor that I’m ashamed of Virgil and Roman, but I’ve never told anyone else about you. I believed for a very long time that I didn’t want to have soulmates, but now I’m not so sure that was correct. I used to think that if I were to pretend you didn’t exist, then somehow it would make you less real. It seems, though, that that idea was completely incorrect. Nothing could make you all less real, and pretending has likely led to an eventual heartache on both sides._ **

**_I want you to know that I’m sorry, I never meant for it to be like this. It was never my intention to leave such a large space between us, never my intention to let you all drift so far away. Had I known then what I’m beginning to learn now, things might have been different. “Forgiveness is the release of all hope for a better past.” I remember reading that somewhere, in a poem once. I hope that one day I can forgive myself, and I hope that you may be able to forgive me as well._ **

**_I’m sorry,_ **

**_Logan_ **

 

**_Virgil,_ **

**_Your poetry has always been intriguing to me, and I’m very appreciative of all the work you’ve shared. You have a great talent, and I do hope to see you go far. It’s rare to find a poet with such a way with words, and I find it interesting that the least communicative of the three of you is the one with the most eloquent writing._ **

**_In many parts of the world there is a saying._ ** **Nomen est Omen.** **_This Latin proverb means that one’s name is one’s destiny. I’ve never found that to be particularly indicative of truth, but I must say that I find it amusing that your name is Virgil, much like the Roman poet, Virgil. Have you ever read any of his works? I imagine that’s likely a question you get often._ **

**_I’ve always felt as though the two of us would get along well, though I can’t say we’ll ever know for sure. Parts of me hope that one day our paths will cross and that we may get to know each other, but I am afraid that that is a very small possibility. There are so many people in this world, and the likelihood of you all being nearby, somewhere where we may meet, is incredibly low._ **

**_I know that several years ago you were very lonely, I could see it in your poems. I hope you know that while I wasn’t there physically, I was there for you the entire time figuratively. You’ve come such a long way since that first summer when you stopped talking for nearly two months, and it’s good to see that you’re doing so well. I’m sure you know, but Patton and Roman were both so worried about you, and I must admit that I was as well. There were days when I was so afraid that I would wake to a widdowmark on my chest, and it would keep me up at night. You always seemed so strong, but I could tell that something was wrong. Seeing your writing now, it makes me happy to know that you’ve made it through all of that. I can see it in your messages, in your poems, that something has changed inside of you, and in some small way that makes me proud._ **

**_Everyone needs a place, Virgil. I hope that you have found yours._ **

**_With love,_ **

**_Logan_ **

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The quote "Forgiveness is the release of all hope for a better past" is from a poem called "Hurling Crowbirds at Mockingbars" by Buddy Wakefield, and you should definitely check it out if you're interested in poetry.
> 
> As always a huge thank you to everyone who's read this so far! It means so much to me to see so many of you continuing to keep up with this, it honestly makes my day just thinking about it! If you have any questions or comments feel free to leave them here, or you can always send me a message on my Tumblr account @quentin-speaks.


	6. No Plan

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Virgil took out his violin and checked the tuning, then slowly started playing a melody that Logan hadn’t ever heard before. He sat listening, Virgil’s fingers gently moving across the strings.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The title of this chapter is based on the song "No Plan" by Hozier.  
> This chapter is definitely longer than the last couple, and the following ones most likely will be as well. I've been working really hard the last few days on all of this and should still be sticking to the "every Friday" schedule that I've got planned.  
> Apologies to everyone who said that they were crying at the end of the last chapter, I know it's been a bit of a bumpy ride so far. Hopefully this makes up for that a little bit!

Logan and Virgil had been meeting in Montgomery Park for the past six Saturdays. They’d sit opposite the water fountain, far enough away that the water wouldn’t damage their instruments, and practice for a few hours. On the fourth afternoon, Virgil had suggested they stop by Calypso’s afterward, and Logan had hesitantly agreed.

“I can’t drive,” Logan reminded Virgil, who was slightly older than him.

“It’s fine, I’ve got a car.”

“Yes, but you’re only 16, right? You’ve got to be 17 to drive with passengers.”

Virgil rolled his eyes, and hunched his shoulders forward, elbows resting on the picnic table in front of him. “So what? We aren’t going to get pulled over, and if we do and they ask, just say you’re my soulmate. Law says I can drive with them, right?”

Logan started to object, but was cut off by Virgil saying, “Come on, Pocket Protector, loosen up a bit. If  _ I’m  _ not worried about it, you shouldn’t be either.”

“Fine,” Logan said finally, after nearly a full minute of staring Virgil down. “If you kill me I will personally see to it that you’re haunted for life.”

Virgil laughed, a small chuckle that almost made Logan grin,  _ almost. “ _ Bold of you to assume that I’d be the one left living.”

After they’d finished at Calypso’s, Virgil had offered to drive Logan home, and despite the fact that Logan only lived a couple blocks away, he’d taken him up on the offer. Carrying around a cello for several blocks was  _ not _ ideal, and Virgil had actually turned out to be a safe driver. They sat in the driveway talking for nearly an hour before Logan finally realized that it was getting late, and Virgil really needed to get home.

On the seventh weekend, though, the rain was pouring, and the park was out of the question. 

_ Logan: The weather is less than optimal today, I feel it’s best if we change our plans. _

Logan had texted Virgil early that morning, hoping to catch him early. They’d have an easier time finding somewhere else to go or rescheduling if it wasn’t put off until the last minute. Virgil’s text came a little more than an hour later.

_ Virgil: yeah, not feelin this rain. my step sisters having a birthday party today so my place is out. what about yours? _

The idea rolled around Logan’s head for a moment. He’d never had anyone over to his house before, much less someone that he was beginning to consider a friend. Virgil being his friend was an entirely different train of thought, and Logan didn’t have time to unpack that right then. His mother wouldn’t be home, as she was on a business trip to Washington, D.C., but he didn’t particularly think that that would matter. It wasn’t like he was having a party or inviting a strange old man from the bar down the street over. It was just Virgil, his… friend. 

_ Logan: That would be fine. Do you need my address? _

_ Virgil: nah i remember. im gonna stop by the cafe, you want anything? _

After a moment of deliberating, Logan texted him an order, and then went downstairs. The house was clean, and dishes were done, but he felt the need to look over everything again, just to be sure. Whenever his mother had guests, she’d always made sure that the house was spotless, and Logan had assumed that that was necessary for any type of company.

When he was sure that the house was in good condition, he brought his cello down from his room and placed it in the sunroom in the back of the house. Despite the lack of sun, the acoustics of the room were still the best in the house. When Logan’s mom working or out of town, he’d often practice there, as he liked the reverberation of the notes off of the glass window panes. 

He decided to spend some time writing a piece he’d been working on over the past two weeks or so. The letters were helping, they were giving him a chance to tell his soulmates things that he wanted them to know, but music was still the best solution for him. Parts of him even wanted them to hear his songs, now, which was a strange feeling. For years he’d been writing song after song, never having the intention of letting anyone, much less Roman, Virgil, and Patton, hear them, but now, he was hoping that one day they would. The likelihood was low, but Logan still wanted to put his best efforts into his work. 

 

**_*********_ **

 

Instead of knocking on the door, Virgil texted Logan to let him know he was there. Logan let him in and showed him to the kitchen, where Virgil placed his violin case on the counter, along with their drinks.

“We have to drink these in here,” Logan told him, taking his coffee in his own hand. “My mom doesn’t allow food or drink out of the kitchen and dining room.”

“That’s…” Virgil stopped himself, but Logan knew that he was going to call the rule stupid. “That’s fine.” He sat at one of the chairs along the breakfast bar. 

Virgil hadn’t taken his jacket off, and Logan realized that he’d never actually seen Virgil without long sleeves on. He wondered if it was uncomfortable to wear a jacket all of the time, but knew better than to ask. He himself wore long-sleeved shirts underneath all of his short sleeved ones, and that was uncomfortable enough. Surely Virgil had his own reasons for covering his arms, though Logan knew that it wasn’t quite the same as his reasons.

He’d heard Virgil talk about his soulmate a couple of times, but hadn’t really asked about him. It didn’t seem like an off-limit topic, but something about the way that Virgil talked about him made it clear that he didn’t really want to go too far into detail about his partner. Of course, Logan could respect that, and he was actually quite thankful that Virgil had never asked him about his own soulmates. Simply not speaking was much easier than lying.

“Your house is really nice,” Virgil said, gesturing to the stove and refrigerator, “What do your parents do for a living?”

“My mom’s a constitutional lawyer,” Logan told him. “I’m not sure what my father does, as I’ve never actually met him.”

“Constitutional lawyer? That’s impressive. She really doesn’t let you take your coffee out of the kitchen?”

“Rules are rules.”

They sat in a comfortable silence for a few moments while finishing their drinks, and then Logan offered to show Virgil to the sunroom. 

“I know it’s dark, but it’s the best room in the house for music.” The room was extremely dark, and Logan realized that the clouds had completely blacked out the sun, leaving the early afternoon to look like the sun had already set. He hadn’t seen a storm like that in several years, and he couldn’t help but wonder how long it was going to last. 

“You’re right about that.”

Logan turned the desk lamps on and motioned towards a chair sat opposite the one he’d been sitting in earlier. Virgil went to sit, and Logan couldn’t help but find himself staring. Virgil had a particular way of moving, as if he was far too aware of his size and surroundings. That wasn’t a bad thing, though, as Virgil was easily one of the tallest people that Logan had ever met, and that was definitely saying something. Logan himself was already 6’0”, at 15, and Virgil easily had 3 or 4 inches on him. 

Lightning flashed, illuminating the entire room briefly before the thunder clapped loudly. Out of the corner of his eye, Logan saw Virgil jump slightly. The rain was pounding harsh against the windows, and he couldn’t help but wonder if maybe they should move into another room. After a moment, he decided that it wasn’t necessary, as the wind wasn’t strong, and the lightning didn’t seem to be quite close enough to warrant concern--at least not yet. 

Virgil took out his violin and checked the tuning, then slowly started playing a melody that Logan hadn’t ever heard before. He sat listening, Virgil’s fingers gently moving across the strings. Despite having jumped a little earlier, Virgil didn’t seem to be phased by the lightning and thunder at all while he played, completely lost in his own thoughts. 

“Did you write that yourself?” Logan asked when Virgil was finished.

“Uh, yeah, I mean, it’s part of something that uh… Yeah, I guess.” Virgil’s face had been dusted a slight red, and Logan couldn’t help but wonder what was going through his mind. “Do you write stuff too?”

For a moment, Logan’s breathing caught in his throat, and he wasn’t sure what to say. Yes, he did write, but he’d definitely never intended to let anyone actually  _ listen _ . Even if he had been thinking about it recently, this wasn’t the Virgil he’d meant to be playing for. Still, he’d been looking at college for cello and composition, and what good was it to write music if no one was ever even going to hear it?

“Yes, sometimes.”

“That’s cool. So where did we leave off last week?”

The two set to work practicing their duet, occasionally stopping to make adjustments based on what their director had said during their last rehearsals. Sometimes, though, they would stop just to talk, and Logan found himself laughing more than he could remember having done throughout most of his life. It felt nice to him, to be able to sit and spend time with someone who wasn’t mean to him, who didn’t diminish his accomplishments or ridicule him for his age. For the first time, Logan had found someone who actually treated him like an equal, and the way that felt was indescribable. 

 

**_*********_ **

 

“It’s still really pouring out there,” Logan said. The two had long since put their instruments away and were instead watching some YouTuber that Virgil had suggested on the television in the living room. 

“I wonder why the weather people suck at their jobs. How hard is it to say “It’s gonna rain”?” 

“It’s more complicated than you might think. There’s a lot of guesswork involved, the weather tends to follow certain patterns, but like anything in nature, it can be unpredictable.”

Virgil rolled his eyes, but Logan got the feeling that it wasn’t meant to be mean. “You really do know something about everything, don’t you, Mr. Walking Encyclopedia?”

“Knowledge is infinitely valuable,” Logan shrugged.

“You are a  _ giant  _ nerd. What time is it?”

Logan looked at his phone and sighed, “23:19.”

“Firstly, sick Disney reference, dude, didn’t know you had it in you. Secondly, in English please?”

“11:19 P.M.”

Virgil laughed, throwing his head back on the pillow behind him. “Too specific, holy crap. Do you just take everything literally?”

“I’m sorry,” Logan said, feeling a small weight pressing down on his chest. “I’m used to military time, and I don’t usually… I’m sorry.”

Virgil shook his head, sitting back up on the edge of the couch. His dark eyes gave Logan a small feeling of butterflies in his stomach, and he had to suppress it. It wasn’t like him to think of someone as so attractive, but Virgil--not  _ his _ Virgil, he reminded himself--was different. Of course Logan rationalized it, it wasn’t that Virgil himself was particularly attractive, just that it was the first time that anyone had ever been truly nice to him, and his mind was mistaking that for a form of attraction.

“Don’t apologize, it’s, uh, kind of, um, kind of cute, I guess? It’s like your  _ thing _ , it’s great.” 

“Oh,” Logan mumbled, his mind going blank.

Virgil looked out towards the window again just as lightning flashed. “I should get going,” he said. 

Logan shook his head, a look of concern spreading across his face. “I don’t think that’s safe, I haven’t seen weather like this in a long time.” He paused, trying to gauge Virgil’s response by the look on his face, but he still wasn’t quite sure. “We have a guest room, you’re welcome to stay here tonight. Actually… I must insist that you do stay, for your safety.”

Virgil gave one of his signature half-smiles, shaking his head. “If you  _ insist, _ fine. But we’re definitely watching Sean’s Bendy and the Ink Machine series.”

“Who?” Logan asked. They’d been watching someone called “Jacksepticeye” play something called  _ Undertale  _ for the last couple of hours. This Sean person hadn’t been mentioned even once, from what Logan remembered. 

“It’s Jacksept… You really don’t watch  _ anything _ , do you? That’s… We’ve gotta find at least one TV show or YouTuber or something for you to watch.”

“I watched Cosmos!” Logan objected, but he knew that that really wasn’t going to suffice. It wasn’t that Virgil was being mean to him, just that he was teasing him. Logan knew that he wasn’t as exposed to common media as most people his age, and that was something he’d long thought needed to change, but he’d just never actually bothered to try. 

“Nice try. Hold on, let me see that,” Virgil leaned over Logan to grab the remote, his side brushing gently against Logan’s stomach. He started to type something into the search bar, but Logan wasn’t paying much attention to what. His whole body felt like it had been set on fire by the smallest touch, and Logan groaned internally. When was the last time he’d had physical contact with another person? He couldn’t even remember the last time that he’d hugged his mother. “You’ll like this guy, just watch.”

Virgil skipped an ad, and Logan watched as a bearded man literally jumped into frame while saying “Hey, VSauce, Michael here.” 

Logan watched, strangely entranced by the cadence of the man’s voice, but also by the information that was being displayed to him. He’d thought many times about what future events he might miss out on, and was interested to see such a distinct timeline talking about when those events might happen. Most interesting to him was the collision of the Milky Way galaxy and the Andromeda galaxy, which he remembered reading about briefly a few years prior. 

“I’ve always wanted to see that,” Logan said, voice barely above a whisper. 

“See what? The collision?”

“No, I mean the sky like that. Without light pollution. Did you know most people have never actually seen the Milky Way because of the light pollution now? It used to be visible everywhere. People knew the stars like they knew the outline of their cities.”

“Why don’t you go someplace with less light pollution?” Virgil asked. He was laying upside down, his head hanging off the seat of the couch, his legs hanging over the back. 

“I can’t drive, and besides, I’m too young to go by myself. The nearest dark sky park that I know of is Black Mesa down in Oklahoma, it’s too far off.”

Virgil hummed, twisting his body so his head was no longer dangling over the floor, and instead was resting on one of the couch cushions next to Logan’s leg. “Your mom wouldn’t be willing to take you on like a vacation or something?”

Logan gave a harsh laugh, “No, absolutely not,” he said, much too quickly. He felt bad, but he knew his mother. “She doesn’t take vacations, and if she did, she  _ definitely _ would not want to spend it like that.”

“Oh,” Virgil muttered, voice going quiet. “Maybe you could go with some friends sometime?” 

Logan shrugged and they turned their attention back to the video. After it was finished, Logan insisted upon watching another one and over the next several hours they watched video after video. Logan found himself lost in the moment, for once in his life. He’d never had so much fun being around another person. Actually, he wasn’t sure he’d ever had that much fun in general throughout his whole life. 

“Holy crap it’s 3:30,” Virgil yawned, turning his phone screen back off. “Sorry for, uh, for keeping you up. I don’t really sleep much.”

Logan shrugged, “I don’t either, really. Usually, I just sit up reading. Sometimes if my mom’s not here I’ll work on composing.”

“I do that, sometimes,” Virgil said. “I’ve got an electric violin at home. It’s so much quieter, so I can actually play at night without bothering anyone.”

“I’ve never actually seen an electric violin before,” Logan said, but his mind was elsewhere. It might’ve been the sleep deprivation, or it might’ve been his mistaken emotions, but he really wanted to play one of his songs for Virgil. “Would you like to hear something?”

Virgil looked at Logan through exhausted eyes and nodded. “Yes, but after we need to sleep.”

They walked back into the sunroom, where they had both left their instruments hours before, and Logan carefully pulled several sheets of handwritten music from one of his folders. He placed them on his music stand and took a deep breath, then exhaled slowly.

“I’ve never played anything I’ve written in front of someone,” he admitted. 

“You don’t have to if you don’t want to.”

“No,” Logan said, voice firm, “I want to.”

Slowly, he began playing, the notes ringing out loudly throughout the quiet house. He played the song that he’d been working on over the past few weeks, even though it wasn’t quite finished. It had been something he was writing for his Virgil, and even though Logan knew they weren’t the same person, he figured that his friend was the closest he’d ever get to playing something for his soulmate. The sound of the rain seemed to mix with the low, resonant sound of his cello, which made Logan feel somehow even sleepier.

When he’d finished, he looked up at Virgil, unsure of what to expect. He was looking back at him, an unreadable expression on his face. There was a moment of silence before Virgil finally spoke.

“That’s… incredible,” he murmured. “I… wow.” 

“Thanks,” Logan smiled, “It’s not finished yet, it’s just something I’ve been working on recently.”

“You should,” Virgil yawned, stretching his arms above his head, his jacket riding up slightly to show his stomach. “You should definitely finish it.”

Logan laughed and said something about sleeping before showing Virgil upstairs to the guest bedroom. He offered him a spare set of pyjamas from his room that were much too big for himself. 

“Just knock on my door if you need anything,” Logan told him, “Good night.”

It was only a few moments after Logan’s head hit the pillow that he felt the familiar tingle of writing on his right thigh, and he couldn’t resist the urge to turn the light back on. In familiar purple writing, Logan read the words:

_ Sorry I couldn’t make it tonight, I got caught up with a friend. I love you both, good night. _

Logan felt himself smile but wasn’t sure why. Somewhere deep down he wanted to believe that that friend was him, but he knew better. This Virgil only had one soulmate, this Virgil was  _ definitely  _ not his Virgil, but to Logan, that didn’t matter. For the first time in his life, he actually had someone he considered a friend, and he wasn’t going to let that be ruined by such a small similarity.

 

**_*********_ **

 

Logan woke surprisingly early the next morning, still exhausted. He tossed and turned for a while trying to get back to sleep, but he was having no luck. His brain was running a thousand miles a minute, trying to process everything that had happened the night before. The clock read 8:53 and he groaned, knowing that his efforts to sleep again were completely useless.

With great difficulty he pulled himself out of bed to sit at his desk. Through the window he could tell that the sky was still cloudy, but the rain had finally stopped The morning was quiet, the only sound that of the heater softly humming as it tried to keep the house from becoming too cold. 

Logan sat with a pen and paper, mind still spinning around the events of the previous night. Had he really sat up so late with Virgil? Had he really played one of his songs for him? What had possessed him to do that? 

It took him several minutes to finally actually begin to write, though he was still unsure of what exactly he was going to say. He’d been writing for more than two weeks at that point, but it wasn’t much easier. Having spent most of his life avoiding processing his own emotions, he found that writing forced him into a very unfamiliar, vulnerable state. Logan wouldn’t have said that he was particularly fond of it, but yet in some strange way, it was comforting.

**_Roman, Patton, and Virgil,_ **

**_I’ve been thinking a lot recently about college. I’ve already sent all of my applications, but I’ve yet to hear back about most of them. Unfortunately, due to my age, I’ve had some difficulties with schools already, and I’m beginning to worry that I will be unable to attend come autumn. I’ve never really considered that this would be an issue, and now I am beginning to wonder what options I may have going forward._ **

**_My mother has mentioned that the nearby colleges will likely allow me to attend classes while living at home, but I wouldn’t prefer that scenario. There are no schools nearby with decent music programs, and that’s become an incredible stressor in my life. She’s told me that I could just take prerequisite classes, and I know that this is true, but I’m worried that transferring will be difficult later down the line._ **

**_I suppose that that wouldn’t be the worst case scenario, as I would still be in college, and I would still be taking classes. I could likely stay with the orchestra here, so I would at the least still be able to play. It might also be nice to stay now that I have a friend here._ **

**_It’s funny, I hadn’t thought about that as a possibility until now. Virgil--a different Virgil, mind you--has quickly become the only real friend I’ve ever had, and it feels like it would be an awful shame to be leaving so soon after finally having found a friend. Strange how priorities seem to change over time, isn’t it? Perhaps staying nearby wouldn’t be such a bad option after all?_ **

**_Regards,_ **

**_Logan_ **

He sighed, pressing his forehead into his hands, elbows firmly placed on his desk. Of all the times to have finally found someone Logan considered worth keeping around, it had to have been then. The idea of giving up going to a good school was daunting, but so was the idea of losing the only friend he’d ever had. Besides, Logan knew that his ability to attend classes further away was very slim at that point. Maybe  _ was _ a good choice for him?

Eventually, after having spent far too long contemplating the dilemma, Logan decided to shower. Afterward, he went downstairs and made himself a cup of coffee, and read a copy of Fahrenheit 451 by Ray Bradbury until he heard Virgil start down the stairs.

“Morning,” Virgil yawned.

“Did you sleep okay?”

“Yeah.” Virgil came to sit next to Logan in the dining room. “You?”

“Well enough,” Logan said. It wasn’t exactly a lie, what little he did sleep wasn’t fraught with nightmares, so in his opinion it was good enough. “Do you want coffee?”

Virgil shook his head, “I don’t drink coffee, actually. Caffeine is really bad for anxiety, it turns out.”

“Oh. Tea perhaps? We have rooibos, rose hip, and chamomile.” Logan paused for a moment, before saying, “Do you want something to eat? We’ve not got a lot of breakfast items, but I think we might have some eggs. Usually, Mom and I just eat oranges or mangos or something.”

“I’ll try a rooibos tea,” Virgil said, “and I think an orange would be fine?”

Logan went to make Virgil his tea and to grab a couple of oranges for their breakfast. He handed one to Virgil when he got back to the dining room. Virgil rolled the orange in his hands, and Logan happened to think to go back and grab a couple of napkins from the counter.

When he got back he realized that Virgil was eating his orange like an apple, without having peeled it, and he had to stifle a laugh. Logan had heard that some people would eat the peel as well, but he’d never actually seen anyone do it. It was incredibly strange to watch. Realizing he’d been staring for too long, he handed Virgil a napkin wordlessly and then continued to peel his own orange.

“Do you always eat fruit like that?”

Virgil looked up, confusion spreading across his face, “Like what?”

“Without peeling it first?”

He laughed, shaking his head as he did so. “I guess. Never thought about.”

Logan nodded, picking apart the sections of his orange. “I hear that the peel is good for you, so you’ve got the right idea.”

Virgil just shrugged. “You busy Wednesday after rehearsal?”

“No,” Logan shook his head. “I’m just going to come home and read like always.”

Virgil nodded, “You should come to Calypso’s with me. Trust me, it’s, uh, it’s nice to get out of the house sometimes.”

Logan looked apprehensive as he tried to think of some sort of excuse for why he wouldn’t be able to go. Virgil looked equally as nervous, though, and he couldn’t help but wonder what the other was thinking. 

“Don’t even think about lying to me, Lo. You just said you weren’t busy.”

“I suppose,” Logan said finally. “If it’s too crowded I’m coming home.”

“I don’t like crowds either. Besides, you’ll, uh, get a chance to meet my, um, my soulmates too.”

Logan realized that Virgil’s nervous look was about him meeting his soulmate. He’d heard him mentioned plenty of times, but the idea of meeting him worried Logan a bit. What if he didn’t like him, and asked Virgil to stop spending time with him? He supposed that that wouldn’t be so different than before, but he wasn’t sure that he wanted to go back to that type of isolation. Was Virgil afraid of that, too? 

“That sounds nice,” he said. “I’m sure it’ll be great.”

“Cool, we can just head over after rehearsal in my car then.”

Logan nodded and continued to pick apart his orange. His mind was running rampant with thoughts of what he would need to do for Wednesday. Should he dress nicely? What did most people do when meeting their friends’ soulmate for the first time? It was a completely new territory for him, and the idea made him incredibly anxious, though he didn’t want to admit to it.

It wasn’t long after having finished breakfast that Virgil decided to head home. He’d half-mumbled something about his sister, and how his moms would be wondering where he was. Logan wished him a safe drive before heading back inside of the house and sitting in the sun room, book in hand. 

He found himself still worrying about meeting Virgil’s soulmate. There were more “what-ifs” to the scenario than Logan liked to admit, and the entirety of the situation was rather scary to him. He’d only just found Virgil a few weeks prior, and he wasn’t ready to lose him. 

It was strange to him to see how quickly Virgil had filled a gap in his life that he’d never known he’d been missing. It had never once occurred to Logan that he was lonely until he’d finally known what the presence of another person was like. The thought of losing that so soon after having found it was terrifying. He wasn’t even entirely sure that he  _ could _ go back to the way things were before, even if he’d wanted to. It would be so much harder to deny himself now that he knew what he’d been missing out on his entire life. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The VSauce video being referenced was "What Will We Miss?" if anyone was wondering.  
> Thanks again for all the Kudos and comments, they really mean a lot to me! As always feel free to comment with questions if you'd like, or you can always send me an ask on my Tumblr page, @quentin-speaks


	7. Aphasia

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As they walked, Logan could better see the people that they were approaching. He felt his blood run cold, as if someone had injected ice water straight into his veins. Every part of him screamed to run, but he reminded himself to stay calm. If he ran, someone would know that something was wrong.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter's name is based on the song "Aphasia" by Pinegrove!  
> Ahhh! A moment we've all been waiting for!  
> Quick warnings for this chapter, there's a somewhat detailed description of a very mild panic attack during a scene that takes place in a restroom. There is also a mention of death/dying as well as suicide and suicidal thoughts, though they aren't very explicit. Most of this can be avoided if you skip the part in bold, though there is another mention during a scene that takes place in a car further down.  
> If you have any questions about any of this let me know!

Logan couldn’t keep his hands still. He was sitting in Virgil’s car fiddling with the hem of his sleeves, trying to keep his mind from racing. The last few days he’d been worrying himself day and night trying to convince himself not to go. He’d almost done so, but after seeing Virgil at rehearsal, he knew that he couldn’t go through with the lie he’d prepared.

“It’s gonna be busy,” Virgil said when they were about half a block away. “It won’t be too crowded, though. Just busier than most days.”

“That’s fine,” Logan said, the knot in his stomach twisting even tighter. 

The parking lot was slightly more crowded than usual, but it wasn’t packed. Logan couldn’t have expected it to have been, considering how small the town was. From what he understood, most people weren’t usually interested in poetry, much less in watching a bunch of strangers perform things live, so it wasn’t a stretch to assume that people wouldn’t be coming from out of town just for that.

Virgil grabbed his violin from the backseat before they headed inside the building. They stood in the short line to order, and Logan could hear someone reading a poem over a microphone at the very back of the room. He scanned the crowd, wondering exactly who Virgil’s soulmate was.

“That guy’s here every week,” Virgil stated, gesturing to the person at the microphone. “Always reads the same few poems, has been for at least a year.”

“That’s strange,” Logan said. 

“See that girl over there?” Virgil pointed to a short, older woman with dyed blue hair who was standing near the back window. “Her name’s Claudia, she’s really good. She has this piece she performs every few weeks about meeting a stranger in a forest, it’s incredible. She hasn’t done it for a while, so you might get to hear it tonight.”

“Interesting,” Logan said, his mind trailing off as he scanned over the room, checking for any familiar faces. There were a few off-shift employees he recognized, but everyone else looked to be a complete stranger.

The line moved forward, and Logan looked back to meet eyes with Madelynn, the barista who was always trying to get him to come to the readings.

“Hey! You made it!” She had a huge grin on her face, “It’s good to see you! Let me guess, hmm,” she studied Logan’s face, “Blackberry pomegranate kombucha and… A lemon poppyseed muffin?”

Logan laughed, nodding, “That sounds good.”

“And Virgil let me think here,” Madelynn said, giving him a once-over. “Raspberry hibiscus iced tea with honey?”

“You know me,” he said, pulling out his wallet. “I’ve got his, too.”

Logan started to protest but found that the effort was completely futile. When Virgil had his mind set to something, there was really no deterring him. They waited to collect their drinks, and then Virgil steered him towards a table near the front window where two strangers were sitting.

As they walked, Logan could better see the people that they were approaching. He felt his blood run cold, as if someone had injected ice water straight into his veins. Every part of him screamed to run, but he reminded himself to stay calm. If he ran, someone would know that something was wrong.

Roman Prince was sitting across the table from a man about their age whom Logan had never seen before. They were laughing about something, and Logan could feel his breath caught in his throat, hear his blood rushing through his head. The other man looked rather short, with curly ginger hair, freckles, and surprisingly bright green eyes hidden behind glasses that looked strikingly similar to his own. He was wearing a light blue polo, a tan coat resting across the back of his chair. His arms were littered with the same blue, red, and purple writing as Roman’s. The same writing as Logan’s, and presumably Virgil’s.

“Hey V!” The ginger exclaimed, hopping up from his chair and running over to give Virgil a hug. He was significantly shorter than both him and Logan, and Logan thought he must’ve been around 5’6 at most. 

“Good to see you, too, Patton,” Virgil laughed, a small smile plastered to his face. He ruffled Patton’s hair before letting him go. “And this must be Logan!”

“Hi,” Logan said, barely forcing the word out of his mouth. He gave a half wave, trying to force his mind out of overdrive.

“This is Patton,” Virgil said, gesturing to the redhead in front of him, “And this is Roman.”

“Roman…” Logan muttered, not meaning to have spoken aloud. “I’ve seen you somewhere,” he covered quickly, hoping that it wouldn’t seem too strange.

“I starred in a movie recently,” Roman told him, his tone bright and warm. “You might’ve seen a poster or ad somewhere.”

Logan nodded, not wanting to admit that he’d already known that, that he’d seen the movie. “It’s nice to meet you both.”

He and Virgil took the extra seats at the table, and somewhere in the back of his mind, Logan was aware of the voice of a girl singing into the microphone at the other end of the cafe. His eyes wandered up to see her, but he didn’t really register anything that she was singing, or even what she had looked like. Instead, his mind raced, his entire body felt like it was on fire, and he wondered what the easiest route of escape might be.

“So, uh,” Logan stuttered, cursing himself internally. Logan  _ did not _ stutter. His mother would have already chastised him for that, and he cringed internally just thinking about it. “You’re Virgil’s soulmates?” He asked.

“Yeah!” Patton’s voice was slightly higher than the others, more emotive. He seemed to burst with energy and Logan was actually kind of surprised by that. His messages had always made him seem kind of goofy, emotional even, but not quite so energetic. “How did you and Virgil meet again?”

_ The same way you did, I suppose,  _ he thought. “We’re in orchestra together--” he started, only to get cut off by Virgil.

“We’ve got a Vivaldi duet together.”

Logan couldn’t contain the look of confusion that washed over his face as Virgil continued to describe their duet of Vivaldi’s Concerto for Violin and Cello in B-Flat Major. He wondered why he’d bothered to lie about it, but figured that Virgil likely had his own reasons. Still, he had never played that concerto before and was only vaguely familiar with it. 

Logan excused himself after a moment, mumbling something about using the restroom. He made his way down the hallway near the counter and was thankful to see that one of the rooms was empty. He locked himself inside and slid to the floor, his head resting against his knees.

_ I knew it was too good to be true,  _ he thought.  _ I knew it. I knew it. I knew it. I knew that I shouldn’t have talked to him I knew that I should have… What am I going to do? What should I say? I can’t. I can’t do this. I can’t fix this. I need to leave. I need to leave right now. _

He was breathing heavily, his chest feeling like it was going to collapse in on itself. His eyes searched the room around him, but he found no escape. There were no windows, just the soft lilac walls of the restroom and the floral border along the top of the wall, flush with the ceiling. He couldn’t walk out the front door, they’d see him leave.

_ Your cello is in the back of Virgil’s car. There’s no escape, you’re just going to have to tough it out. Isn’t this delightful? You were so  _ careful _ all of this time, and yet here you are. What a rough first date. _

Logan pressed his palms roughly over his eyes, counting slowly to catch his breath.  _ It’s not a date. It’s… This was an accident. It won’t happen again. _

_ Oh, but it will,  _ the nagging voice inside his mind told him.  _ You know that it will. You can’t leave Virgil, you need him too badly now. _

_ I don’t need him. _

_ But you do. You said it yourself, you can’t deny it now that you know what you’ve been missing out on. Just give in, let yourself need them. Go back out there, tell them everything. _

He continued breathing, in for four seconds, hold for seven, out for eight. Repeat. His heart rate was slowing, his chest beginning to hurt less. Now it was just him and his own thoughts, and he’d been battling those for years.

_ I’m not telling them anything. They don’t need to know. I can… I can be friends with Virgil without letting them know. I can do this. I can handle this.  _

_ We’ll see,  _ his mind told him,  _ good luck with all of that. Say, aren’t you worried they’re wondering where you are? They probably think you’ve had an accident by now. Don’t need that, now do we? _

Logan stood from the floor and quickly washed his hands, then splashed some water on his face. He looked at his reflection, his plain, boring brown hair, his thick-rimmed, boxy glasses, his boring brown eyes. He looked half like a ghost, he thought. He dried his face with a paper towel, wiped his glasses clean, and headed back out to the table.

 

**_*********_ **

 

“Hey Lo! Claudia’s about to perform, you’re gonna love this!” Patton exclaimed. They had been sitting around the table talking. Well, mostly Logan was listening, nodding and adding as few words as possible when the time was right for them. He felt incredibly out of place, as if he was doing something wrong.

Of course, he knew he  _ was _ doing something wrong. Lying was wrong. He tried to push the thought to the back of his mind again and again. He just needed to focus, to make it through the rest of the night, and then when he got home he could devise an actual, proper plan. 

He looked up to see the woman with the blue hair that Virgil had pointed out earlier was walking towards the microphone. Her hands were empty, unlike most of those who had performed before her. She stood gingerly in front of the mic, her hands resting gently on the pole it was attached to.

“Hi, I’m Claudia, and tonight I’m going to be performing  _ Moriko.” _

The entire cafe was silent, something that had not happened at all prior to Claudia having taken the stage. Logan looked towards Virgil, who nodded, confirming that this was the piece he’d been referencing earlier while they had been in line. Patton and Roman kept their eyes trained on her, as did everyone else in the cafe.

**“The immense silence filled the world around me, sunlight filtering gently through the leaves. I had never known peace like the moment I had entered the forest, the world behind me long forgotten, only the gentle sway of the trees guiding me towards what I believed to be destiny.**

**_People come to die here,_ ** **I thought,** **_Have I also come to die?_ **

**Truly, I had not known. I had reached the Sea of Trees with only my backpack, containing a single change of clothes.** **_So what if I have come to die here?_ **

**The forest called to me, a soft, silken beckoning towards home, towards the encapsulating silence. My footsteps made no sound across the dense leaves, the birds silent in their trees, the only sound that of my heartbeat.** **_Everyone has a place._ **

**My place was here, among the trees, feet sinking deep into the forest floor laden with leaves. Loneliness, I had learned, was a beast, not a thing. It resided deep inside of me, somewhere below my collar bones, the weight of it pressing against my lungs. Loneliness would eat me alive if I let it, but I fought the beast back down repeatedly, trapping it deeper and deeper inside of me, only to find the cell door had been weakened each time.**

**See, I trapped bits of myself in the cage with the beast, tearing off parts of my soul, feeding it to the monster. I was not proud that parts of me wished to keep it alive. Loneliness is a fickle thing like that. If letting the beast die meant I would no longer need to hold up my chest, my words would no longer have a battle to fight. They would spill out across the mossy floor, begging for the return of their captor.**

**I sat at the foot of a tall hemlock fir, the moon above illuminating the Sea. It was then that I saw her, silhouetted against a backdrop of green, emerging from between the trees. Her emerald eyes trained on me, footsteps silent as she approached. I had never known peace such as the moment I laid my eyes upon her.**

**Her voice was soft, a whisper like the gentle rustle of leaves, reaching out to soothe me, beckoning me towards home. “Why have you come here?”**

**Why had I come here? Why was I here among the dead, lost in the Sea, clinging desperately to a beast which only sought its’ own escape? “I have come to die here.”**

**She rested a cold hand upon my cheek, “You will find not what you seek. Start over, try again,** **_everything must come to an end.”_ **

**My heart ached, chest heaving against the beast.** **_I will find not what I seek._ **

**“I see that you struggle, that you feel you must contain the beast. It has found its’ place within you, it is yours to keep. However, I must inform you that it shan’t remain a beast. This creature resides inside of you, pressing against your lungs, release it, let it be free. It** **_will_ ** **find what it seeks.”**

**“I’m afraid,” I told the woman, looking deep into her eyes. “It is all I have left, I don’t want to be alone.”**

**She pushed my hair back, fingertips gracing along my face, “Alone is a place, not a state. Move with the wind, with the friend you call the beast, let it guide you towards the light, away from such a place. A fire resides within you, you do not belong among the trees. Go forth, follow your dreams and you will finally know peace.”**

**She led me away from the hemlock fir, back through the Sea of Trees. The edge of the forest in sight, she stopped and bowed to me.**

**“Will I see you again?”**

**“My place is here,” she spoke, the rustle of the leaves, “I pray we will not meet again. Should you ever need me, be wary of return, the forest isn’t welcoming, and most cries go unheard. Speak my name and I will find you, I will guide you back to Earth. Go now, it’s late, and there is a somewhere you belong.”**

**“But I don’t know your name,” I told her, the ground felt like it was shaking, but I stood firmly in place.**

**“I am Moriko, the keeper of the trees. So long now, child, go and find your peace.”**

**I closed the distance between the edge of the forest and me, and when I looked back towards Moriko, she had disappeared into the Sea.”**

There was a soft clap from somewhere in the front, and quickly the rest of the café joined in. Claudia still stood in front of the microphone, her head bowed slightly, face bright red. Virgil had a strange, dazed look in his eyes, and both Patton and Roman held small smiles.

Logan had felt a sense of familiarity stir inside of him. He had known that beast. It clawed at him, begging for its escape, but he’d always pushed it back down, silenced it. There was a strange fondness for it, for the feeling of loneliness that surrounded him. Letting it go would mean something completely unknown, and Logan wasn’t ready for that. 

_ Isn’t that what you’re already doing?  _ He thought.  _ Letting it go? Why would you be here otherwise? _

He pushed the thoughts back down. It was a problem for another time, when he could actually sit and think. This was a time for him to stay alert, to keep his guard up, to make sure that the others didn’t discover him. 

“So what did you think?” Patton asked, eyes wide, a big grin plastered across his face.

“I liked it,” Logan stated hesitantly. “I liked it a lot, actually. The way she spoke, the words she used, it was so vivid. It really made me think.”

“She’s really something,” Roman said. “Virgil just loves that story, he gets all weepy about it.”

Virgil glared at Roman as Patton interjected, “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you here before, do you like poetry much?

Logan was glad to see the tension settle, the look on Virgil’s face softening. He shrugged, “I do. Well, some I like. Certain people have a talent for it, others not so much.”

“Speaking of, we have a really talented poet in our midst. We’ve been trying to get him to perform something for years, but he’s got stage fright,” Roman teased.

“I don’t have stage fright, my poems just aren’t very good,” Virgil stated. “I like writing, doesn’t mean I have to be good at it.”

“Oh nonsense, you’re great, kiddo,” Patton smiled.

Logan felt a little like the odd one out. Sure, he’d read several of Virgil’s poems before, and he was quite impressed by them, but he couldn’t tell any of them that. Instead, he just remained silent, eyes darting back and forth between the other three. 

“Speaking of performing, Pat, were you still wanting to play tonight? I brought my violin.”

Roman made a mocked sound of surprise, “Oh you’ll go up when he asks you, but when I ask you tell me no? I see how it is, I know when I’m not loved.”

Virgil rolled his eyes, “Good to know we’re on the same page. Be nice to Logan when we’re gone, I don’t want you scaring my friend away.”

Roman made a face at them as Patton took Virgil by the arm and gently pulled him towards the table where, presumably, the organizer was sitting, keeping track of the list of performers. Logan stayed firmly in place, his heart racing once again. He and Roman were alone now, sitting across from each other at the table. He had no idea what to say, or even if he should speak. 

For the past four years he’d been dreaming up different conversations, trying to imagine what he would tell his soulmates if he ever actually met them. What did he want them to know? For most of those four years, he’d been so sure that he’d never wanted soulmates at all, but now things were so different. Maybe he did want them, but he’d been so sure that he wouldn’t ever even meet them, and yet, there he sat, sitting across from Roman with his stupidly handsome face and his stupid sparkly eyes. 

Logan had never felt so childish in his life, so unequipped for a situation. It was one thing seeing him on television or in a movie, but sitting across from him in a café, three blocks from his own home? What was he supposed to do? How was he supposed to keep from revealing himself?

“Virgil really is a good poet,” Roman said, startling Logan back to the present. “He doesn’t give himself enough credit.”

Logan nodded, “He will when he’s ready, I’m sure. It’s not easy to show things you’ve created to other people.”

“I guess I’ve never felt that way,” he hummed. “So do you go to school around here or something?”

“I’m a senior at Ridgedale High. What about you guys?”

“We go to Jefferson… Wait, you’re a senior?” Roman asked, eyes spreading wide with confusion. “But you’re what? Twelve?”

Logan felt his face turn into a very unpleasant scowl, and Roman seemed to press himself further back into his chair, frowning slightly. “I’m fifteen, I’ll be sixteen on May third. I could have graduated sooner, but I chose to stay longer since getting into a decent college at fifteen isn’t easy.”

Roman studied his face for far too long, attempting, Logan assumed, to gauge whether or not he was telling the truth. It wasn’t the first time he’d been looked at like that, but it still stung. No one ever wanted to believe his accomplishments. The inevitable “you’re lying” or “you’re such a joker” was coming, he could feel it. 

“That’s impressive,” Roman told him genuinely. “That couldn’t have been easy, I bet you’re, like, crazy smart right?”

Logan shrugged.

“Oh hey look! They’re going on,” Roman said suddenly, pointing up towards the makeshift stage. 

Patton was standing in front of the microphone, Virgil off to the side next to him, violin already in hand. Despite having been the one to suggest going on stage, Virgil did look very nervous. He shifted from foot to foot, eyes darting around the room as if plotting for an escape. He locked eyes with Logan for a brief second before finally settling on staring out the window just behind him, eyes fixed on seemingly nothing. 

“Hey, guys! Most of you already know me, I’m Patton! This is Virgil, I’ve finally convinced him to come up here with me, and we’re gonna be playing  _ Part of Your World _ from  _ The Little Mermaid.  _ I mean, who doesn’t like Disney, right?” He gave a big, sincere smile and went to sit on the battered old stool in front of the worn keyboard. 

They started to play, and Roman sighed wistfully. “Who doesn’t like Disney?”

Logan refrained from telling him that he’d never seen  _ The Little Mermaid _ before, and thus had no idea what the song was, or what it was supposed to sound like. The melody was nice, though, simple, and he found that he liked it well enough. Part of him wondered if that was actually because he liked the song, or if he just liked hearing Patton and Virgil play. 

When they were finished, Logan clapped while Roman cheered loudly. They came back to sit at the table after a moment, and Virgil stretched out across his chair. If Logan had noticed anything, it was that Virgil couldn’t seem to sit in a chair properly, no matter the circumstance.

“Did you like it?” Patton asked, locking eyes with Logan, who nodded. “Good! We weren’t sure what to play, but I mean you can’t go wrong with Disney classics. We’re a Disney family, aren’t we?”

The others agreed, Roman much more enthusiastically than Virgil, who just kind of mumbled in response.

“They’re gonna be closing in about ten minutes,” Virgil said, “I should get Logan home. I’ll meet you guys back at Pat’s, okay?”

“Sounds like a plan,” Roman confirmed. “Nice to meet you, L.”

“Nice to meet you!” Patton exclaimed, “You should join us again sometime! It’s been nice having you here! If you come next week I’ll make sure to bring some cookies or maybe some cupcakes or something?”

Logan nodded hesitantly but found himself saying, “That sounds great,” against his own will. 

Patton gave him a tight hug, his face pressed into the center of Logan’s chest. He could feel his own heart beating much too fast for what must’ve been the dozenth time that night, but he hugged Patton back loosely. He smelled like cinnamon, cloves, and vanilla, as if he’d spent his entire life in a bakery. It was strangely comforting to Logan, in a way he couldn’t quite place. He was so afraid to touch him, so afraid that somehow by doing so he would reveal himself, that they would suddenly know, and they would be upset with him. 

He headed out to the car with Virgil, his mind still reeling around the whole night.  _ Maybe it’s just an extremely vivid dream? _ He thought to himself.  _ I’ll probably wake up in a few minutes and this… nightmare can end.  _

They sat in relative silence for a couple of minutes as Virgil drove. The radio was playing a song that Logan had heard before, but couldn’t quite place. It felt like a deep, distant memory.

“I really like Claudia’s story, the Moriko one,” Virgil muttered, voice barely audible over the quiet drone of the radio. “I always felt like I could understand it.” He paused for a moment, though it was clear that he wasn’t looking for a response from Logan. “I don’t, uh, I don’t usually talk about things like that.  It’s, um… I’ve been there, though. Close to, uh, close to the edge I mean.”

“Oh,” Logan whispered, realization dawning upon him. “That’s…”  _ That’s what happened that first summer, isn’t it? When you disappeared… _

“What I mean, is, um, is that I get it? I get what’s it’s like to be hurting and, uh, wanting to die and feeling so, um, so alone.”

Logan felt a weight press against his chest, the weight of the beast, of loneliness, reminding him that it was there, that it longed for its’ escape. “I’m sorry,” Logan mumbled, voice far away, hazy, as if lost in another world.

“It’s not… You don’t need to apologize, just, uh… I guess I thought I was missing something,” he said. “Sometimes I…” his voice trailed off, as if he’d had more to say, but had thought better of it. “Patton and Roman really helped, they just, um, made me feel so much less alone, I guess? And, see, Moriko tells Claudia to let the beast go in the story, right? And it sounds like she’s telling her to throw away her loneliness, but really she’s telling her to let it find what it’s looking for. All it really wants is to be with others, and by, um, by feeding it like that it doesn’t go away it… Evolves? I guess?”

“I see,” Logan replied, mind circling around the words that Virgil had just told him. “I wonder if that’s based on a true story of some sort.”

“Never asked.”

“You should,” he told him as they pulled into his driveway. “Tonight was…” he had to think of the right word to use, the right one that wouldn’t be offensive in some way. “Nice,” he settled on, though it wasn’t quite the word he wanted to use. “Your soulmates seem nice.”

“They like you. Patton wouldn’t offer you cookies if he didn’t. You really should come next week, you know, if you liked it.”

Logan nodded as he stepped out of the car. He opened the backseat to grab his cello before saying, “Maybe. Let’s talk about it Saturday when we practice.”

“Speaking of, it’s supposed to be raining again. Do you want to rehearse here? We could also go to my place but I’ve got three younger sisters who won’t want to leave us alone.”

“Here’s fine, let me know if something changes. Have a safe drive back,” Logan said, and after hearing Virgil’s reply he shut the door and quickly hurried into the house. 

He noticed a pair of shoes next to the door that were clearly not his or his mothers, and sighed. His mother had been having quite a bit of company recently, and was spending most of her weekends “on business trips,” but Logan knew the truth. It wasn’t a problem, she could do what she pleased, but he couldn’t help but worry about her. She had to have been hurting really badly, and Logan wanted to help, but didn’t know any way in which he could. 

He headed up the stairs, and as he did, he felt a slight tickle on his arm. When he’d closed the door to his room, he pulled his sleeve up to look at the message, which was written in blue writing.

_ Logan’s so cool! I hope he comes back next week! _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'd also like to mention that the piece Claudia performed was something I wrote specifically for this story, but is based on an experience I had in a forest a few years back. I was a little hesitant to actually include this but it's relative to the story later on, so I decided to keep it. If anyone had to skip it feel free to message me either here on on my Tumblr page (@quentin-speaks) and I'd be more than willing to give a quick run-down of the important bits without touching on any of the sensitive content from it.  
> Huge thanks yet again to everyone who's left a kudos, comment, or bookmarked this! Y'all honestly make my entire week!   
> Also if you're interested in being added to a tag-list on Tumblr please let me know!


	8. The Ghost on the Shore

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> On one hand, he could just stop talking to all of them. He could start avoiding Virgil at rehearsals, he could find a different café to spend his weekends at, he could block their phone numbers and do his best to disappear.  
> On the other, he could just keep pretending to be nothing but a friend and hope that they’d never find out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is titled after the song "The Ghost on the Shore" by Lord Huron!

It was the fifth letter that Logan had opened, and it was the fifth time he’d gotten the bad news. He wasn’t going to be able to go to any of his top colleges, he was just too young to live on campus. There was nothing else that he could do, he’d have to go to one of the schools nearby, no matter how much he hated the idea.

It was so much worse now, too. It meant that he had no escape, no way to easily remove himself from his soulmates’ lives when the time came. Now if he left, they’d have questions, especially after the way that he’d been spending so much time with them over the past few weeks. It would hurt them if he disappeared, and it was the one thing he’d always been most afraid of.

Logan sat at the dining room table with the letter in hand, shaking slightly. Nothing ever seemed to go the way that he’d planned, and he was becoming increasingly more angry about it. He’d worked so hard, he’d kept straight A’s all through high school, he’d done extracurriculars, he’d practiced so many long hours, and all of it felt like it had been sent to waste. Sure, it would get better eventually, but “eventually” felt like a lifetime away, and Logan had already waited so long. He’d even taken an extra semester in high school just to give himself until he was a little older to go to college. He didn’t want to wait any longer.

“It’s going to be okay,” his mother said, snapping him back to reality. He’d completely forgotten that she was sitting across the table from him. “You’ll just go to the college here for a couple of years, it’s fine. You’ll figure it out. Stop acting like your life’s ending.”

Logan sighed and clenched the paper tightly in his hand. He started ripping it apart and piling the pieces on the table. There was nothing he could do or say with is mother present that wouldn’t upset her in some way. He still wished that she would be kind enough to move with him, to help him get to one of the schools he really wanted to attend, but he knew that she wouldn’t. “It’s fine,” he sighed eventually, picking up the pieces of torn paper from the table before standing up and walking towards the kitchen to throw them away. “I’m going out.”

His mother didn’t respond and Logan wasn’t surprised by that. She never seemed to care what he did or where he went, and she’d only been getting worse over the past few months. The death of her absent soulmate had changed her, and Logan feared that it was somehow for the worst.

He didn’t want to resent his mother, but often he found it difficult not to. She’d never been much of a parent, more just a figure who occasionally yelled at him but still paid all of the bills without complaint. Most days he didn’t even see her, and it felt more like he’d been raising himself since the day she deemed him old enough to stay at home alone.

He quickly threw his coat and shoes on and left out the front door. He wasn’t sure where he was going to go, but he just set out walking, heading towards town. There had to be something out there somewhere to keep his brain occupied.

Logan’s phone buzzed, but he ignored it, still heading towards town. Most of his usual stops were still open, but he wasn’t feeling much up to going to one. It was rather late on a Tuesday, and despite Logan’s usual insistence upon staying home past dark, he didn’t care very much that night. It wasn’t dark yet, there was still at least an hour before the sun set, which was good enough for him. If he made it home before dark great, if not, it wasn’t like it mattered much anyway.

He looked up at the sky, a sigh escaping him. Part of him wanted to talk to someone--to anyone really--about what had been happening, about how he was going to be stuck at the city college, getting stared at by adults easily old enough to be his parents, and old classmates he didn’t like. No one would ever believe that he was smart enough to actually be there, that he deserved it, because it was just a run-of-the-mill college, a dime a dozen. They accepted practically everyone who applied.

_ What if you just don’t go? _ His mind asked.  _ You don’t  _ have  _ to go to college. _

The thought circled around Logan’s mind. Sure, maybe he didn’t  _ have _ to go, but he wanted to, didn’t he? He’d been working up to that his entire life, it was his top priority. Not going felt wrong, it felt like giving up.

_ Taking a gap year isn’t giving up. You could get a job, work someplace and save up money, maybe. _

Logan scoffed. A sixteen-year-old working a full-time job instead of going to school? That might have been the dumbest idea he’d ever had. It would be an absolute waste to have worked so hard in high school only to  _ take a year off _ . Besides, no one ever actually went back to school after a gap year, his mother had told him that more than a dozen times growing up.

_ Then just go for a year or two. It won’t be any different than high school. _

No, it wouldn’t be different than high school. Logan had spent his entire time at school being given strange looks or mocked in some way, with most of the same kids that he’d been dealing with for years. He’d once again be in a run-down old building with a bunch of people he didn’t care about. No different at all.

He was definitely going, even if he wasn’t happy about the situation. Nothing was going to hold him back, whether he liked it or not. The university in his hometown might not have had the best reputation, but he was going to make do with it to the best of his ability. He’d do whatever it took to prove to himself that he deserved it.

His phone buzzed in his pocket again, and he pulled it out this time, looking at a text from an unfamiliar number.

_ Unknown: Hey it’s Patton, V gave me your number. I was wondering if you’re busy tonight? Let me know! _

Logan sighed, the familiar weight on his chest returning. Of course it was Patton. Of course he wanted Logan to do something with him, of course it had to be right then. Logan was beginning to feel as if there would be no escape from his soulmates now, and as if he’d have to just accept their presence going forward. Keeping the secret from them was already becoming increasingly more difficult, but he’d have to figure it out, have to make it work. He didn’t need to force his way into an already established relationship, even if it felt like he was already doing so.

He tried to think of an excuse, something that wouldn’t seem like he was trying to intentionally avoid him. His mind ran over various scenarios,  _ I’m busy, _ or maybe  _ I’ve been sick all day _ or perhaps  _ I’m out of town. _ The more he thought about it, though, the more guilty he began to feel. He’d already weaved himself deep into a bed of lies, and here he was again, considering lying to Patton just to avoid seeing him.

The problem wasn’t that Logan didn’t want to see Patton, it was that he wanted so desperately  _ to  _ see him. He felt ashamed of himself. For four years he had successfully avoided all contact with his soulmates, and then all at once he not only decided that he really did care about them, but also found himself face to face with them. It was just so much for him to handle all at once, and the more time he spent around the others, the more time he wanted to spend with them going forward. There was really no winning for him in the situation.

On one hand, he could just stop talking to all of them. He could start avoiding Virgil at rehearsals, he could find a different café to spend his weekends at, he could block their phone numbers and do his best to disappear. That option would likely hurt them, would make them wonder what had happened, what they had done wrong to make Logan push them away. That was the last thing that Logan had ever wanted.

On the other, he could just keep pretending to be nothing but a friend, and hope that they’d never find out. He could see that it was going to become increasingly more difficult, seeing as now not only was it Virgil who wanted to spend time with him alone, but Patton did too. The more time he was with them, the larger the chance for error, but the less likely that he would hurt one of them, unless he made the mistake of slipping up and letting them know.

There was a third option but that wasn’t one that Logan was willing to take. He could have just told them, could have written to them or explained the situation, but he’d been very adamant that he would  _ not  _ do that, under any circumstances. They were happy together, they were happy without him, he didn’t know how many times he would have to remind himself of that fact. Still, the thought crept back up again and again, begging him to say something, to let them know what was actually going on. Logan crushed it back down, caging it deeper and deeper inside of him each time. That was his own, personal beast, and he was sure that he’d never free it.

After several moments of deliberating, he decided that lying wasn’t going to benefit him or Patton in any way, and texted him back.

_ Logan: I’m not busy tonight. Did you have something in mind? _

He stopped and sat on a bench outside of a restaurant, letting his legs rest and waiting for Patton’s response. While he waited, he went ahead and added his number to his phone.

_ Patton: There’s a meteor shower tonight, I was wondering if maybe you wanted to come over and watch it with me? Virgil says you like space and stuff, right? _

_ Logan: I like astronomy, yes. That sounds nice. Should I meet you somewhere?  _

_ Patton: I can pick you up if you want _

_ Patton: Or if you want you can meet me at my dad’s bakery downtown _

_ Patton: It’s Pandora’s Bread Box over on the corner of Lancaster and Sherman. It’s a big purple building, you can’t miss it _

_ Logan: I’m already in town, I’ll just meet you there. _

Logan looked around him, trying to get a decent bearing on his location. He was only a few blocks away from the bakery, and set off towards it. While he walked, he couldn’t help but wonder why Patton had asked him and not one of his other friends, or even one of their other soulmates. The thought upset Logan, but he did his best to ignore his emotions. He could deal with whatever internal conflict he needed to when he was at home later.

 

**_*********_ **

 

Pandora’s Bread Box was indeed a “big purple building.” Logan had been expecting a bright, flashy purple, but instead, it was more of an aubergine color. It wasn’t a very imposing building, basically just a big box with windows and doors, with pink and yellow flowers painted on the side facing the road. 

He’d actually passed by it plenty of times, but had never stopped in. He’d always assumed it was some metaphysical shop or perhaps even a flower shop, but now he noticed the sign by the door. The name wasn’t exactly the most clever, but it did seem to fit the general mood. 

A sign on the door read “Open” and Logan walked inside to be bombarded by the scent of fresh pastries. Inside was painted a softer lavender shade, with solid oak floors. The lobby was empty aside from a single woman who sat next to the front window with a laptop open and a cup of coffee resting on the table next to her. A counter ran across the back wall, with a door behind the cash register leading into the back room where the kitchen likely was. The counter was made of several long display cases, all of which filled with various different types of cupcakes, cookies, pies, and cakes. 

Logan approached the counter, looking at the different options and trying to decide if he wanted anything. He’d never seen so many different versions of cheesecakes in his life, and he couldn’t help but wonder if Patton knew how to make all of these, too, or if it was just his father who did most of the baking. Based on Logan’s limited experience with Patton’s cookies several weeks prior, he wouldn’t have been surprised if he could bake any recipe sat in front of him.

He stood waiting awkwardly for several minutes, wondering if it was normal for the register to be unattended. After a few moments, though, Patton appeared from the back room. His eyes grew wide upon seeing Logan, and a big grin drew across his face.

“Hey! Good to see you! How long have you been waiting there?” Patton had flour dusting across his orange apron, and a little bit combed into his hair. Logan stifled a laugh upon noticing this.

“Not long,” he lied, giving a shrug. “Do you make all this yourself?”

“Not exactly, no. Dad makes most of the cakes, I do most of the bread and all of the decorations when I’m here. Do you want to try something?”

Logan debated it for a second, but agreed. “What’s your favorite?”

Patton grabbed a plate from the rack along the back wall, and opened a case towards the end of the counter. “Are you allergic to anything?”

“Penicillin,” Logan said.

Patton let out a light, bubbly laugh, and reached in to take out a piece of a red-orange cake with white icing. “Okay, good, nothing to worry about here then.” He handed the plate and a metal fork to Logan, and watched him intently as he took a bite.

Logan was extremely confused by the taste. It was similar to that of a carrot cake, but with a slightly stronger taste of cinnamon and cloves. Still, there was something else, something Logan couldn’t quite place, though he did like it. “That’s really good,” he said, taking another bite. The icing was cream cheese, like a traditional carrot cake. “What is it?”

“Family secret,” he said, giving a slight wiggle of his shoulders.

“It’s tomato soup,” a woman’s voice came from behind them. The woman sitting by the window had looked over at them, “And it’s the best thing on the menu.”

“Oh come on Charlene! Can’t you let me have fun just once?” Patton was pouting, and Logan couldn’t help but think that it was rather cute. The idea of a tomato soup cake was extremely foreign to him, but he couldn’t deny that he liked it, and he wasn’t going to stop eating it. Logan would never have admitted to it, but he did have quite the sweet-tooth, despite knowing that was bad for his teeth.

“Somebody’s gotta reign you in, Pat, and if Virgil isn’t here to do it you know it’s gotta be me.”

Patton sighed, then turned back to Logan, “This is Charlene, she’s my other dad’s bookkeeper and secretary. She works from here a lot since he works from home. It makes it a little easier on everyone, plus the internet is super fast here.”

“And he’s that cute guy you keep going on about, isn’t he? Careful now, you don’t want your soulmates thinking you’re cheating on them.”

Patton’s face flushed a bright red, and he quickly denied the accusation. He and Logan were just new friends, everybody got excited when talking about the new people in their lives, she shouldn’t be so quick to pass judgment.

_ Also, he’s clearly better off with the both of them,  _ Logan thought. 

“Anyway, why don’t you come sit back here? I’m off in about 20 minutes and Dad should be here soon to take over,” Patton said, motioning for Logan to duck behind the counter and sit on a stool nearby. 

He sat behind the counter while Patton pulled up another stool next to him. Logan looked out over the empty bakery again, eyes scanning over the tables, the lack of decorations. “Do you get much business?” He asked Patton, who was busy counting the money in the cash register.

“Not during the day, no. We’re open really late, though, and a lot of the college students come in. We’re really, really busy during finals week.”

“How late are you open?”

“3 AM on weekdays, 5 on weekends. We’ve got a decent weekend staff, but for the most part it’s just me and Dad on the weekdays.”

Logan nodded, still picking at the admittedly large piece of cake in front of him. He was surprised that he’d never stopped by before, and even more so that he’d never heard anyone mention it. For being someone who stayed up quite late most nights, Logan apparently wasn’t very familiar with the few places in town that were open past 22:00. “What does your other dad do?”

“He’s a therapist,” Patton told him, replacing the drawer back into the register. “He works with a lot of different people, it’s kind of cool. He’s kind of eccentric, Dad always says that he’s where I get it from.”

“Eccentric isn’t a bad thing. Diversity is good for a population, it makes certain types of people more desirable from an evolutionary standpoint,” Logan remarked, then immediately cursed himself for it. “What I mean is that it’s a good thing to be yourself.”

Patton laughed, a broad grin gracing his face once again. “I get you, Lo. The meteor shower is supposed to start around 10, so I figure we can just head to my place and watch from there?” 

They talked for a few minutes while Patton finished tidying up the rest of the store. It wasn’t long before his dad arrived, and Patton caught him up to speed on what had been going on for the majority of the afternoon before giving him a hug and saying that he’d see him in the morning. Then they headed out, walking the few short blocks to Patton’s house.

 

**_*********_ **

 

“That sounds dangerous,” Logan said, glancing at the open window in Patton’s room. 

The room itself was somehow exactly what Logan had always pictured, and nothing alike at the same time. The walls were painted a soft sea green with light blue curtains hanging over the windows. The quilt on Patton’s bed appeared to be hand-sewn, and matched the colors of the walls and curtains, with swirls of yellow thread patterning a design over the top. There were Polaroid pictures tacked neatly along the walls, various photos of Patton with his friends, family, and soulmates. There were even older photos from what appeared to be middle school, before Virgil had dyed his hair and while Roman still had braces.

The wind blew gently through the open window, where Patton was crouched just outside, sitting on a strip of the roof. “It’s safe, I promise! I’ve only fallen off once and I didn’t even get hurt!”

Logan was extremely hesitant. The idea of crawling out of a window seemed about as unsafe as one could get in his current situation, but Patton seemed very sure that it wouldn’t end badly. He poked his head out of the window slightly, taking a good look around.

He was pleased to find that the strip of roofing was much larger than he’d originally expected, and slowly he climbed out next to Patton, who was beaming brightly in the moonlight. Patton handed him a heavy crocheted blanket, which he quickly wrapped around himself. It wasn’t freezing, but the crisp night air was definitely much colder than Logan typically preferred.

Patton stretched out across the shingles, his knees bent to help keep him steady against the roof. He gave a small, contented sigh, looking up at the sky above him. “I sit out here almost every night in the summertime. It’s so much nicer when it’s warm and the sky is completely clear. Can’t see the stars that well, we live too far in town for that, but it’s still nice.”

Logan watched him intently, the slow rise and fall of his chest, the way his hands fidgeted with the holes in his ripped jeans. Patton was, by every standard that Logan could think of, cute. He was short and heavyset, with freckles dotting across his cheeks and arms, and wore boxy dark blue glasses. He was different from Virgil and Roman, as he appeared approachable, friendly, like someone that one would want to get to know.

“I hope you don’t mind that V gave me your number, I just really thought you’d like this,” Patton said, eyes still trained on the sky. 

“It’s okay,” Logan responded, though he wasn’t quite sure that it was true. He laid back, keeping himself steady with his feet in the same way that Patton did, his head pressed against the shingles of the roof. To his surprise, the position was oddly comfortable.

They sat in silence for a few minutes, looking up at the sky and watching the occasional meteor streak by. There weren’t many stars visible and most of the meteors were difficult to see due to the light pollution. Every so often, though, a particularly bright streak would appear across the sky, and Patton would give a small gasp, pointing up and tracing it’s path with his finger.

Logan couldn’t help but wonder what was going through Patton’s mind. Was he happy that Logan had come? Was he enjoying the meteor shower? Did he wish that his soulmates or other friends were there instead? Why had he actually asked him over? 

Logan turned his head to watch Patton as he kept his eyes on the sky. He had never seen someone look so peaceful, so content with the moment. Surely if he had wanted someone else there Patton wouldn’t have asked him, would he? Logan felt a small smile creep over his face, but he attempted to suppress it. He noticed a shiver run through Patton’s body.

“Are you cold?” 

Patton turned to look at Logan, “A little bit, but I’m okay.”

“Why don’t you have a blanket?” Logan asked.

“The other ones are in the wash, I didn’t want you to not have one. I’m okay, really.”

Logan watched as Patton suppressed another shiver, and he felt guilty for keeping the only blanket from him. “Here, take this one, you need it more than I do.”

“I really don’t want you to get cold,” Patton told him. 

“I’ll be fine,” Logan said.

Patton hesitated for a moment, seeming to think intensely about whether or not his next words were going to be okay. After a brief moment, he spoke up, “We could share it, if you don’t mind.”

Logan groaned internally, seeing Patton’s sheepish grin, his hands still fiddling with his jeans. He looked so unsure, as if he was afraid he would offend him just by asking. Logan couldn’t help but feel bad. The idea of being so close to Patton--to any of his soulmates--was both terrifying and exciting. Against his better judgment, he agreed.

Patton scooted closer to Logan who raised part of the blanket for him to crawl under. They were laying extremely close to each other, Patton’s side brushing gently against Logan’s. The area where Patton touched him felt like they were on fire, lightning shooting out across Logan’s skin, the smallest contact feeling like far too much and not enough at the exact same time. 

“I don’t know much about space,” Patton admitted. “I just think the stars are really pretty. Virgil said you know a lot about this stuff, though?”

“A good amount, I’d say,” Logan responded. “It is pretty. Have you ever seen photos of the sky without light pollution?”

“I don’t think so, what’s it like?”

Logan went on to explain how the stars were much brighter and more visible in areas with lower light pollution. He then went on to explain how far certain stars were and how bright many of them appeared. Without meaning to, he’d managed to monologue for several minutes, somehow ending up explaining how it was likely that Mars’ moon Phobos would one day be torn apart by Mars’ tidal forces and create rings surrounding the red planet similar to those of Saturn.

He wasn’t sure for how long they stayed there, just laying on the roof talking about whatever topic passed through their minds. The moon slowly streaked its way across the sky, the temperature dropping even lower. Eventually Logan started to feel Patton shivering underneath the blanket next to him, and suggested that they head inside.

Patton closed the window behind them before throwing himself upon his bed. He told Logan to join him, which Logan did hesitantly, sitting gingerly on the corner of the bed. Patton smiled, spreading out and crossing his arms behind his head.

“It’s been nice having you here,” Patton told Logan, his eyes closed, completely relaxed. “We’re gonna miss you if you leave, you know.”

“If I leave?” Logan asked, worrying that somehow he’d let slip that he’d been thinking about ways to avoid them, to cut them out of his life. He didn’t want them to miss him, and the new confirmation made it even more clear that he was stuck with them. 

“You’re graduating soon, right? I thought you told Roman you were looking at colleges out of state.”

Logan sighed, half from relief, half from the frustration of being reminded about his current predicament. “I’m not leaving,” he said, voice barely above a whisper. He cursed himself for letting himself sound so distraught. “I can’t live on campus out of state, so I’m just going to stay here.”

Patton opened his eyes, looking intently at Logan who was still sitting on the edge of the bed. “That’s horrible, I’m so sorry. You don’t deserve to be stuck like that.”

Logan just nodded, trying to keep from appearing too upset. He felt bad for being so picky, for not wanting to take the opportunity in front of him. All of his hard work felt like it was for naught, but he felt ungrateful for wishing that things had turned out differently. “It’s fine.”

“It’s not fine, though,” Patton told him. “I used to say that about stuff all of the time. It’s not good to bottle up your negative feelings and pretend they don’t exist. It’s okay to hurt sometimes.”

Logan laughed, voice coming out strained. “I don’t feel anything,” he said, only half joking.

“That’s not true. Everyone feels something. Sometimes we convince ourselves we don’t because we don’t want to acknowledge what’s going on, but the feelings are still there.”

“You think so?”

“Of course I do!” Patton sat up on his bed, hugging his knees tightly to his chest. “You’re not a robot, L.”

They sat in silence for a few moments, Logan’s mind running over the words that Patton had said. What was he supposed to do? Admit that he was angry? That he resented his mother for being unwilling to help him achieve his goals? That he was angry that he was so young, that the world was so biased against people they saw as children? Was he supposed to tell Patton that he was frustrated that he couldn’t just run away from him like he’d always done? That he couldn’t find a way to leave his soulmates behind? That he was still having trouble admitting to himself that he didn’t  _ want _ to? 

Because if he did that, it would make it real. It would make everything he’d been suppressing real. Everything he’d ever done to make his mother happy, every part of himself that he’d thrown away to please her. It would mean the parts where he’d ignored Patton, Roman, and Virgil for years under the false idea that he wanted to be alone were no longer a logical choice he’d made to protect them from himself. Instead, it was something that he had done to protect himself from the rejection he felt was inevitable. 

His chest ached, but he pushed it down, locked it away. “Thanks, but I’m really okay. It’s unfortunate, but there’s nothing I can do to change it. I just have to wait until I’m older.” 

They talked for a while more, Patton telling stories of the early days of his relationship with Roman and Virgil while Logan talked about different musical projects he’d been working on. Eventually Patton started to become tired, and Logan could tell that it was time for him to take his leave. He called for a Lyft, and headed out a few minutes later, telling Patton that it was nice to have spent time with him that night.

As he walked down the front steps of Patton’s house, he couldn’t help but think about how true that final statement was. He’d actually enjoyed himself, sitting on that roof and looking up at the sky with his soulmate, who just seemed so happy to be alive. 

It was unfortunate how much Logan wanted to savor it, to return and spend the rest of his life with them. He cursed himself for it, for all the time he’d been spending with them, for the way he was lying to them, for the way he’d let the entire situation escalate. He should have left the second that he realized who they were. He should never have taken Virgil up on the offer to rehearse with him. There was nothing he could do now, though. He was stuck, crushed under the weight of the hole he’d managed to dig himself into, and now he couldn’t see a single way out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Huge thanks to everyone commenting last week! I'm so glad so many of you like the Moriko story! I'm glad I decided to keep it in.  
> As always, if you have any questions feel free to ask me! I've also got a tag list going on Tumblr if you're interested in being tagged for new updates


	9. Numb

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It wasn’t long before the song had ended, and Logan felt himself let go of a breath he hadn’t known he’d been holding. He looked back out over the audience to see that Roman had leapt to his feet, with Patton tugging at his shirt trying to get him to sit back down, seeing as he was the only member of the audience standing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is titled after the song "Numb" by Linkin Park!

Logan’s eyes looked out over the crowd, searching for a face he was sure he wouldn’t find. Once again his mother had promised to come to his performance, and once again she had failed to show. He tried not to let the thought bother him as he took his seat in his chair, cello in hand, ready for the start of the concert.

He knew that he shouldn’t be upset, that she always promised she would be there only to forget later, but it hurt him. How many times had he fallen for that lie? How many times had he asked her? Reminded her? He’d even reminded her earlier that morning, and she’d said she would be there, but where? 

The disappointment settled over Logan like a heavy wet blanket. His thoughts became muddled with the anger he felt towards his mother as he played the first few pieces in their set. They’d played through the first three songs before he’d even registered that they were on stage, muscle memory taking over and thankfully allowing him to play mindlessly.

The fourth and final song was the Phantom of the Opera Medley, the one he’d spent so much time working on with Virgil. The song that had, for all intents and purposes, completely changed his life.

He looked out over the crowd again, still searching for his mother’s face but not finding her. Instead, his eyes settled on Roman and Patton who were sitting in the 4th row. They were both smiling, listening to the director announce the final song. When Roman heard them announce that it was, in fact, a Phantom Medley rather than Vivaldi’s Concerto for Violin and Cello in B-Flat Major, his eyes lit up and he leapt towards the edge of his seat. Patton patted him on the chest, gently pushing him back into his seat and quietly shushing him. Clearly, Virgil had wanted to keep the actual piece a secret for a reason.

They started, and Logan found himself becoming lost in the sound of the music, playing each note as if it was ingrained in his memory, yet still somehow as if he’d never played it before. The anger he felt towards his mother slowly started to ebb away, his only thoughts being that of the next notes he needed to play. It consumed him, the delicate sound of Virgil’s violin filling his ears, wrapping around his shoulders and down his arms, guiding his hands as he played. The audience began to fade away, and all that mattered to Logan was how Patton and Roman perceived the music. Did they feel it in the same way that he did? Wrapping around his entire body, enveloping him like a strange hug?

It was by far their best rendition yet, the best full-playthrough they’d had. Virgil sounded so confident, so at ease, and Logan couldn’t help but wonder what he was thinking. Was he playing to impress their soulmates, or was he playing for himself? What kinds of memories did the song really evoke in him? 

It wasn’t long before the song had ended, and Logan felt himself let go of a breath he hadn’t known he’d been holding. He looked back out over the audience to see that Roman had leapt to his feet, with Patton tugging at his shirt trying to get him to sit back down, seeing as he was the only member of the audience standing. Roman’s eyes met Logan’s, and he felt his face flush brightly at the contact, quickly glancing away. 

Yes, he had been spending more time with Virgil and Patton, but he still hadn’t spent all that much time alone with Roman. They’d had several conversations over coffee at Calypso’s, but it’d only been in the presence of the others. He wasn’t sure why, but he still found himself actively avoiding contact with Roman, and when they were alone together they both seemed to have trouble communicating with one another.

A few moments passed before they shuffled quickly and quietly off of the stage, heading towards the practice room where their cases had been left behind. He tucked his instrument away before heading over to Virgil. Together they headed out of the practice room and down towards the main lobby, where Virgil said they were supposed to meet Roman and Patton.

Upon seeing them, Patton ran up and practically leaped into Logan’s arms in a hug, which threw Logan off-balance and nearly knocked him over. He swore that he’d never be used to Patton’s overly-physical means of expression. The others never hugged him, but Patton just didn’t seem to have boundaries, and despite Logan’s initial distrust, he’d quickly grown to like it to a certain extent. 

“Look at Mr. Grey Sky over here! Not only did you keep that last number a secret, but you absolutely smashed it!” Roman exclaimed, wrapping Virgil in what appeared to be an extremely tight hug, lifting him off of the ground and spinning him around. Virgil’s face flushed bright red as he protested for Roman to just put him down.

They were both laughing though, and Logan quickly averted his eyes upon seeing Roman lean up to give Virgil a chaste kiss. His soulmates weren’t particularly keen on public displays of affection, but every so often Logan would catch them giving each other quick kisses. It wasn’t so much that the idea of PDA made Logan uncomfortable, but more that he felt as if he was intruding on something that was meant to be special. There was also an underlying tinge of jealousy, though he wouldn’t willingly admit to that.

“I thought you’d like that,” Virgil said, a small grin plastered across his face. Patton went to hug him tightly, and as he did so he reached up to ruffle his hair.

“And you!” Roman exclaimed, turning on his heels to look Logan directly in the eyes, “That was incredible! Why didn’t you say that you liked musical theatre sooner? That would have given us  _ so much  _ to talk about!” Roman gently tapped Logan on the arm, a gesture that Logan wasn’t sure was meant to be playful or hurtful. He assumed playful from the excitement that filled Roman’s voice, though a small part of himself in the back of his mind told him otherwise.

“I, well,” Logan started, watching as Roman’s face fell.

“You’ve never seen it, have you?”

Logan shook his head and Roman gasped dramatically, shaking his head animatedly and giving him a look of genuine shock. Logan could feel the inevitable “what’s wrong with you” or “have you lived under a rock your entire life” coming. He’d gotten it for years from various classmates and other people he’d met over time.

“Well, that just won’t do. We’re watching it this weekend, you absolutely  _ cannot _ change my mind. And don’t you dare think about canceling it, by the screams of snipped snakes at a Gorgon salon I  _ will  _ hunt you down.”

Logan laughed, begrudgingly agreeing to spend his weekend watching musicals with Roman. It wasn’t until then that he’d realized exactly how much Roman talked with his hands, gesturing and moving around as he spoke. He wondered if that was something he did on purpose, or if it was just part of who he was. At any rate, Logan found it rather endearing, and quickly hushed himself from pointing it out.

Roman took Logan’s phone to add his number into it and sent himself a text so that he’d have his number as well. The four stood and talked for a short while as the lobby cleared out, the crowd slowly dwindling down to just them and a few other stragglers. Eventually, they decided that it was best to head out, as it was getting rather late.

“I know you said your mom would take you home tonight, but are you sure you don’t need a ride?” Patton asked gingerly, as if he was afraid to breach the topic. 

“Oh,” Logan said, the realization that his mother truly hadn’t shown up hitting him once again. “If it wouldn’t be a bother that would be nice, actually. It seems she must’ve gotten caught up at work again.”

A sad look flashed across Roman’s face and he glanced towards Patton, whose smile had also faltered. He was quick to recover though, telling Logan that it was okay and that he could take him home. 

“I’m sorry your mother couldn’t make it,” Roman told him as they walked towards their cars. “I know how awful it feels to not have your mom present for something so important.”

“Thank you, really, but it’s fine,” Logan said, though he knew that it wasn’t the truth. He’d been able to push the thought to the back of his mind for a while, but now that it had re-appeared he knew that it would be a useless battle to attempt to fight it off again. He shouldn’t have expected her to actually show up, but for some reason, he hoped that she would actually be there this time, would actually try to support him. It was his fault, really. He shouldn’t have expected any different from her.

They said their goodbyes and Logan got into Patton’s car with him. He gave him his address and Patton typed it into his phone and turned on some sort of Japanese pop music to listen to as they drove. He listened as Patton talked through the entire drive, responding only when absolutely necessary. He felt kind of bad and hoped that Patton wouldn’t take it the wrong way, but he didn’t have enough energy to actively try to be more engaging. He could tell that it was going to be a very, very long night.

 

**_*********_ **

Logan hadn’t bothered to even look in his mother’s direction upon arriving home. Instead, he kicked his shoes off at the door and immediately headed up the stairs, placed his instrument in its rightful place, and face-planted directly into his pillow.

He groaned into the pillow, feeling his glasses dig into his face but doing nothing to remove them. His night shouldn’t have been ruined so easily, yet it had. Why had his mother always promised to show up if she never actually bothered? Why did he always get his hopes up? It was textbook insanity and he was embarrassed for himself.

It might’ve been twenty minutes or two hours that he laid there, face in his pillow, unmoving, waiting for the sweet release of sleep to come. Sleep was an enigma, though, constantly evading him. After a while, he decided that it would be more beneficial to just give up and to work on something more productive.

It wasn’t often that Logan listened to music while at home, but that night he couldn’t have been bothered to care. He turned on his cassette player and pressed play, not worrying about which album he’d left in the last time it had been turned on several months prior. The notes to “In the Flesh?” by Pink Floyd quietly played out through the speakers, and he turned the volume up. What did it matter if his mother could hear it? It wasn’t like she was very considerate of his wants or needs, why should he be of hers?

Logan had been writing significantly more often since meeting his soulmates, sometimes even multiple times a day. He’d tuck each letter away in a box beneath his bed, right next to the one containing all of Virgil’s poems that he’d copied down over the years. It felt nice to write to them, to get the thoughts out of his head and onto paper. Sure, they would never see the letters, but that didn’t matter to Logan. All that mattered was the way the letters let him write to them without ever having to fear the rejection that would inevitably come if he actually told them.

That rejection wasn’t something that Logan had ever wanted to acknowledge, but Patton’s words had gnawed their way through him.  _ Sometimes we convince ourselves that we can’t feel anything because we don’t want to acknowledge what’s actually going on. _

He pulled out a piece of paper from his desk, along with a pen, and pressed it to the paper, hoping that he could find the proper words to write.

**_Patton,_ **

**_Thank you for offering to take me home tonight, you didn’t have to do that. I know it’s an inconvenience to go out of your way for me, and yet you’ve been kind enough to do so. I’m very grateful for it, and I’m sorry that I didn’t express that more clearly earlier._ **

**_I keep trying to remind myself not to become spoilt on the connection that I currently feel between the four of us. When the day comes for us to part ways I know that it will be so much harder now that I’ve given into these…. Feelings. It’s been difficult for me to deny myself the pleasure of spending time with you all and I know that it will likely be my downfall._ **

**_It hurts me to know that should you ever find out the truth about me you will no longer wish to have me around. I know that I have betrayed your trust, and it guilts me every day to think that I am keeping such important information from you. I won’t deny that I have selfish motives behind doing so and I am truly sorry that I’ve brought you into this lie._ **

**_I’ve been thinking so much recently about what you told me that night at your house. I know that I am not a robot, but I’ve never had anyone else say something so bluntly to me before. Here I was, all of these years, thinking that you were merely the kind and soft-spoken one on these matters, but it appears that I was wrong. You are not afraid to speak your mind, to tell me what I need to hear, even if it isn’t what I want to, and I admire you for that. You were not wrong, however. I am not a robot, I do have emotions, and I struggle to not feel somewhat bitter about the entirety of the situation._ **

**_I’ve spent my entire life pretending as if I couldn’t feel anything, denying that there was any possibility that I wanted you in my life. I had convinced myself that I truly wanted to be alone, that I would spend my entire life like this, and then something changed. I can blame it on my mother and her soulmate but really I feel like there was much more at play than just that. If anything, though, it served as a catalyst, and now things have begun to spiral out of my control._ **

**_See I always said that I didn’t want soulmates, that I was better off without you and that, in turn, you would be better off with me, but now I’ve come to understand that that isn’t true. I do want you, I do wish to be with you, and I am definitely not better off without you. However, I still believe that you are better off without me. What kind of person would want to be with the kind of monster who went nearly five years without telling their soulmates that they exist? How could you ever forgive me for what I’ve done?_ **

**_This is how I know that should I ever tell you about this you would--_ **

There was a knock on the door, jolting Logan upright. He shoved his pen and paper in one of his desk drawers, heart racing. Another knock came, slightly louder this time, and he cursed under his breath, reaching to turn his cassette player off.

“Yes?” He asked, not standing from his desk chair.

“Logan, I think we need to talk,” his mother said, not yet having opened the door. He felt himself roll his eyes at that, and cursed himself for making such a childish gesture. Thankfully she couldn’t see it, otherwise, she would have complained and made his already bad night even worse.

“Come in.”

 

**_*********_ **

 

His mother sat on the edge of his bed, hands folded neatly in her lap. She looked calm, but Logan could tell that something was bothering her by the way that she rubbed her thumbs together. She’d always been a particularly easy person to read.

They sat in silence for several minutes, Logan staring her down as she appeared to think. Sometimes she would start to speak, but think better of it, quickly stopping and quieting down again, only to repeat the process a few minutes later. He could feel himself becoming increasingly frustrated at her lack of communication. 

“I just came up here to let you know that I’m going to be gone the next two weeks. I’ll be back before your graduation. I’ll be there, I promise,” she said finally, her eyes not meeting Logan’s.

He hummed, his lips drawn into a tight line. She’d be gone through the first week of May. She’d be missing his birthday. 

He felt something well up inside of him, pressing hard against his chest wall, against his throat, his eyes, threatening to make him cry.  _ I don’t cry,  _ he reminded himself. As if it wasn’t bad enough that she’d missed what might have been the most important concert of his career so far, but she would also be missing his sixteenth birthday? 

“That’s fine,” he said through gritted teeth, his whole body suddenly feeling very, very numb. Could anger leave someone feeling detached? “When are you leaving?”

“Monday morning. If you need anything I’ll be leaving money under the bread box in the kitchen like always. I probably won’t be home much this weekend, though. I have clients to tend to.”

_ Clients _ , he thought.  _ Of course. _

He knew that there were no clients, not this time. She’d only started working so many weekends following the revelation of her dead soulmate. He knew that it wasn’t fair to fault her for her behaviors, but that didn’t particularly matter to him anymore. How could someone claim to be a parent and then just leave their child alone so often? What sort of mother missed their only son’s sixteenth birthday?

“It’s funny, you’re an awful liar for a lawyer,” Logan clipped, his words coming out with more venom than he’d intended. He hadn’t realized quite how upset he actually was until he heard the sound of his own voice. “How can I believe anything you say? You promised me you would come tonight and you lied about that, too. How should I believe that you’ll be back before graduation?”

His mother looked shocked, then angry. “I did not lie to you, Logan. I never  _ promised _ you anything, you know that I don’t make promises. I told you I would  _ try _ and I did. You can’t blame me for being busy, how else do you think I can afford to keep this roof over your head? By going to all of your silly concerts and parent-teacher conferences? I’m sorry but that won’t pay the bills.”

His hands reflexively curled in his lap, and he had to remind himself to breathe. She could give a shit about some mystery person dying but she couldn’t care about her own son’s orchestra performances? When was the last time she’d even  _ talked  _ to him, let alone supported him in something that he was doing? The more he thought about it, the angrier he felt, and the more he was unsure of what to do. He’d never felt something so strong all at once before.

“So you were working tonight, then? That’s the real reason that you didn’t bother to even text me to let me know you wouldn’t be there? Why is it that I don’t believe that? Why is it that I don’t believe that you’ve been on business trips every weekend for the past three months?”

“I don’t know what you’re implying,” she told him, attempting to keep her voice calm and steady. Logan could tell that he was starting to get a rise out of her, and despite the part of himself that said that was a bad thing, it still felt good. She’d been so neglectful of him for so many years, and she’d been getting so much worse after her widowmark had appeared.

“I’m saying that I know better than to believe that all you’ve been doing is working. You’ll show up for anyone or anything as long as it isn’t me, won’t you?” His voice cracked a little, and he cursed himself for it. His heart was aching, knowing that no matter what he did his mother never seemed proud enough to actually show up for him. 

“That’s not true and you know it. I just don’t have time for…” Her voice trailed off. Logan could see that she was trying to think of what to say next, but she’d trapped herself into a corner.

“You don’t have time for me. It’s fine, you always said you didn’t want children, I shouldn’t expect anything more from you.”

His mother sighed, her hands reaching up to rub at her temples as she tried to think of the next thing to say. She seemed tired, as if she’d been running mental marathons all day, trying to come up with some sort of excuse to stop from hurting Logan’s feelings. There was no avoiding that now, though, the damage had already been done.

“Your father wanted kids.”

Yes, his father, whoever he was, had been the one who had wanted children. Clearly, his father, who had abandoned him long before he was even born was the one who had actually wanted to have kids, that made perfect sense. He’d been thinking about that for years, trying to piece together why that had never made sense. What sort of person wants children but runs away the second they’re faced with one?

“He wanted kids and I thought that I could…” Her voice trailed off, as if she’d nearly said something that she shouldn’t have. 

_ What sort of person wants children but runs away the second they’re faced with one?  _ Logan thought again, much louder now, at the very front of his mind. He’d been faced with this question for years, prying at it bit by bit, unsure of the proper answer. 

He’d never gotten so much as a birthday card. Never been held by his father as an infant, never even known his name. The details he did know were scarce, and many of them didn’t match up properly in his mind. He’d been trying to put together a puzzle that was missing so many pieces. 

The thought continued to claw at him, to beg for an answer that Logan knew wouldn’t come. He couldn’t imagine a type of person who would claim to want children but then never even bother to meet them. It felt wrong to him, as if it was somehow his fault that his father had never wanted  _ him.  _ He’d wanted children, right? Just not Logan specifically.

“I don’t care,” he told his mother, whose face turned to a look of genuine confusion. “He’s not here, it doesn’t matter. I got stuck with two parents who don’t want me, it’s fine. I’ll leave when I turn 18 and I’ll stop bothering you then.”

“I do want you, Logan. I do now, and I did when you were a baby. I… Might not have wanted kids before, but I wanted you when I found out I would have you.”

Logan sighed, shaking his head. “You have a strange way of showing that.”

“I’ll do better, I promise. Just give me a chance, please.”

He nodded, agreeing but not really putting stock into her words. She’d promised him so many things before, and none of them she had kept. From then on he promised himself that he wouldn’t fall into that trap again, that he wouldn’t allow himself to believe her empty guarantees. It had only ever led him to heartbreak, and he was so very, very tired of heartbreak.

Logan nodded before telling her goodnight and quickly ushering her out of his room. He needed his space, he needed to be alone, he needed… He needed out of his house. He needed to be someplace that wasn’t there, someplace where he didn’t feel like the walls were going to shrink in on him.

He waited a few minutes after he’d heard the door to her room close, and then quietly snuck down the stairs and slipped his shoes on. The night air was brisk as he walked, heading towards the center of town. It was late, very late, and there was only one place he could think of that would allow minors in at nearly 2 A.M. on what was now a Friday. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm super excited for next week's chapter, there's a lot in store! I think I've finally got an idea as to how much longer this story is going to be and I'm still on track to for weekly updates.  
> As always, thanks to everyone leaving kudos and comments! I appreciate it so much <3 It really helps me keep going and lets me know that this story's been worth continuing.  
> If you have any comments or questions feel free to leave them here or on my Tumblr page @quentin-speaks


	10. Comfortably Numb

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Girl you do not sound ‘fine.’ You sound like you’re about to have a full-blown breakdown, and trust me, honey, I would know. I’m the queen of 3 AM breakdowns.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This title is named after the song "Comfortably Numb" by Pink Floyd.  
> There's a lot going on in this chapter and there are a couple of new characters being introduced. I know this is a little early this week, I happened to finish it early and was just itching to get this put up already.  
> Quick trigger warning for some mentions of death and dying throughout the chapter, though nothing is detailed. It's mostly just references to Logan's mother's soulmate and that whole situation.

Logan sat at a table near the window, drinking a plain black coffee and eating a slice of tomato soup cake. The change in scenery had helped some, but his mind was still racing, still upset about the situation with his mother. A sinking feeling had settled in the pit of his stomach, the realization that she would most likely be missing his graduation despite her promise not to. She’d missed everything else, what would stop her from missing this, too?

The rest of the bakery was empty, just him, a lady behind the counter, and someone in the back that Logan could hear talking every so often. It was peaceful, sitting there all alone, looking out at the dark street in front of him, cars passing every so often. He imagined that it would look even nicer with snow on the ground, but winter had already crept past much more quickly than he’d even realized.

His arms were tingling, lighting up more than they had in a long time, but he chose not to worry about it. It was probably just a new poem that Virgil had written or a drawing that Roman had done. Maybe Patton had started drawing again? It didn’t matter, he couldn’t exactly look given his current circumstances.

“We’re closing up in ten minutes,” someone called, and Logan turned to look at a man with pink hair who was wearing sunglasses despite the late hour. He recognized him as Patton’s dad, the one he had met briefly a few weeks prior. The man stood in front of the counter with a rag in his hand, still looking in Logan’s direction.

“Okay, I’ll be finished before then,” Logan said, quickly shoveling a bite of cake into his mouth.

A look of recognition drew across Patton’s dad’s face. “Aren’t you one of Pat’s friends? Logan, right? What are you doing out at this time of night?”

Logan shrugged. “I couldn’t sleep,” he lied.

He crossed the lobby over to Logan’s table sat on the chair across from him, leaning back comfortably. He looked out towards the lobby, sighing. “Oof, girl I know that feeling. Why do you think this place is open so late?”

“I never really thought about it.”

Logan felt awkward sitting there, unsure what to do. He’d never had a conversation with one of his soulmates’ parents before and he was worried that he might say something wrong. Still, the presence was oddly comforting, and Logan made no efforts to move or eat any faster.

“I’m Remy, by the way. Not often that I see Pat’s friends come out here alone. Hell, I don’t think I’ve ever seen anyone out this late aside from Virgil. You sure you’re okay, kid?”

“I’m fine,” Logan said, voice betraying him, coming out half-broken, as if he was on the verge of crying.

“Girl you do not sound ‘fine.’ You sound like you’re about to have a full-blown breakdown, and trust me, honey, I would know. I’m the _queen_ of 3 AM breakdowns.”

Logan hesitated, unsure of what to say. He wanted to just continue to sit in silence, to pretend that he’d disintegrated into the floor so that he could avoid any further confrontation. It was stupid for him to have gone there and he cursed himself for having left the house. He should have just stayed home and gone to bed like it was any other night.

Sleep never would have graced him, though, and he knew that. So many nights he’d sat in silence staring up at the ceiling, hoping for the sweet relief of dreams to come, but to no avail. Sleep had a way of evading him and he hated that.

“You don’t gotta talk, we can just sit here all night if that’s what you want. I won’t make you go home if whatever it is is that bad.”

Logan looked up at him, feeling his eyes sting a little. He ignored it, breathing slowly and steadily for a few seconds before finally speaking. “I’m really okay.”

Remy sighed, letting out a strained laugh. “You sound like me at your age. You’re what? Sixteen? Seventeen?”

“I’ll be sixteen next week.”

He gave a low, exasperated whistle, “I knew Pat said you were graduating early but damn. Good on you, kid.”

“Thank you.”

They sat in silence for a couple of minutes, Logan still sipping on his coffee. The girl from behind the counter locked the front door and asked Remy if there was anything else he needed her to do before she headed out, and he sent her on her way. That left just the two of them there sitting by the window, Logan still staring out at the street in front of them.

He found himself rubbing idly at his arm which was still tingling with the sensation of his soulmates writing. He couldn’t help but wonder exactly what was going on, why they were all writing so much all at once. It wasn’t like them to do so anymore, and Logan couldn’t help but begin to fear the worst. Had that happened, though, he would have felt a widowmark burn its way onto his chest, and thankfully that sensation had not come.

“Just us now, babe, if you want to talk. I’m not a therapist, that’s Emile, and I gotta admit he’s better at this shit than me, but I won’t talk to anyone else if that’s what you need. Not even Pat, I promise.”

The words floated through Logan’s mind for a moment, weighing the pros and cons of talking. What if Remy was lying? What was he even supposed to say? _Hi, I’m your son’s third soulmate that he doesn’t know about nice to meet you_? Obviously, that wasn’t the right answer.

“I… Virgil and I had a concert tonight, my mother promised me she would be there but she didn’t come,” he stated, watching Remy’s face for any minute changes that might indicate that he’d changed his mind about wanting to listen.

Remy nodded, frowning slightly. He ran a hand through his hair, resting his elbows on the table. “Not the first time she’s done this, huh?”

Logan took another bite of his nearly-finished cake. “She misses everything.”

“Everything?”

“Concerts, competitions, birthdays, basically anything important.” _She would have missed my own birth if she hadn’t been required to be there,_ Logan thought cynically.

He wasn’t sure why but Remy felt trustworthy, and he’d been needing someone to talk to. It was strange how easy it was for him to open up to so many people over the past few months, as if a dam inside of him had broken. _Perhaps this isn’t a bad thing_ , he thought to himself. _Maybe talking to someone will make me less… Angry? Is that what this is?_

Logan had always had trouble discerning his emotions, even to the point of believing he didn’t have them for a long time. Emotions were messy and complicated, two things that he’d never had much of a care for. Was he angry or just disappointed? Was he happy or excited? What did that matter? It wasn’t necessary for survival to feel those things.

“What about this year?”

Logan sighed, shaking his head. “She told me tonight that she’s going to be out of town for the next two weeks.”

Remy’s eyebrows knit together in confusion, his eyes still obscured behind his dark-tinted sunglasses. Logan couldn’t help but wonder what he’d look like without them on, if Patton might have had the same eyes as him. The thought made him uneasy and he attempted to forget about it.

“That’s a load of shit,” Remy stated. “What kind of parent misses their child’s 16th birthday? Girl, you know that if Emile tried to pull that shit I would kick his ass from here to next week.”

They sat in silence for a moment, Logan listening intently to the sound of the air conditioner rattling in the vents above them. What was he supposed to say to that? Remy was right, it was a load of shit, and most parents wouldn’t want to miss their only child’s 16th birthday.

His mother wasn’t like most parents, though, and he knew that. Most parents talked to their children, or at least made an effort to know what was going on in their lives. Most parents didn’t stop their kids from being kids. Merida was different and no matter how hard Logan tried he couldn’t seem to forgive her for it.

“I don’t think she’s going to make it back for my graduation. She promised she would be, but she’s promised me a lot of things. It just…” Logan’s voice trailed off. It hurt, but he wasn’t sure he was willing to admit that to someone else just yet.

“You deserve better than that, babe. What about your dad? Will he be there?”

Logan felt himself sigh, frustration taking over. He wasn’t upset with Remy, Remy couldn’t have known the minefield that lay beyond that question, he was just upset in general. The thought gnawed at him further and further, circling around his mind again and again, begging for an answer. _What sort of person wants children but runs away the second they’re faced with one?_

The answer was there, in his mind somewhere, but Logan just couldn’t access it. It felt like there was a wall between him and what he wanted to know, and he couldn’t seem to give himself permission to take that wall down.

“I’ve never met him. He left before I was born.”

“Sorry to hear that,” Remy replied. “I know how much that sucks, I never met my dad, either.”

Logan nodded, unsure of what else to say.

“What about your soulmate?”

“What?” Logan asked, unconsciously tugging at his sleeves, making sure they were covering his arms completely. “I don’t have--”

Remy cut him off, “Girl, I know better than that. You’ve been rubbing at your arms all night. It’s okay, so you haven’t talked to them yet, no big deal. Emile didn’t talk to me for six years.”

The weight of the beast pressed sharply against Logan’s chest, begging for release. He’d nearly forgotten about it over the course of the past few months. Spending time with Virgil and the others had satiated it, it’s hunger dying out and causing it to relax. Now, though, it hurt like Logan had never quite felt before. Loneliness could be crippling, that much he knew, but the feeling he got now was so much worse.

“Six years?” Was all he could manage.

Remy sighed, hand running absentmindedly through his hair. He sipped what appeared to be green tea through the straw of a reusable water bottle. Logan hadn’t even noticed it sitting there until then, his mind too preoccupied with the events of the night.

“Mmm, yeah,” he mused. “It’s a long story--”

“I’ve got time,” Logan said, cutting him off. He hadn’t meant to interrupt, but he couldn’t help himself. He’d never met an adult whose soulmate had waited so long before contacting them, at least not one whose soulmate was still alive. Somehow it seemed like the information might help him in some way.

“Sure, okay, kid.”

They sat for a moment while Remy seemed to compose himself. Logan wondered if he’d ever told the story in its entirety to someone before. Surely he had, but by the way he looked, it must have been a long time ago.

“I thought I was soulless the whole time,” he started. “Found out later that Emile started feeling my messages when we were about 12--like most people, y’know? He knew that I was talking to him but didn’t know what I was saying. He didn’t have anyone who could read it to him and that made things harder.

“His dad passed away when he was nine and he watched his mother have to deal with the aftermath of losing her soulmate. She didn’t handle it well--not that most people do. Started drinking and hooking up with strangers and just doing a bunch of really risky shit. He saw the way losing David screwed up his mom’s whole life and after that, he vowed he’d never let that happen to him.”

Logan hummed in response. He knew all too well what losing a soulmate could do to a person. Even though it hadn’t been long since Merida had lost hers, and even though she’d never known them, Logan could tell the impact it had had on her. The late-night strangers in his home spoke volumes by themselves.

“He told me he’d wanted to send a rejection to me, let me know that he didn’t want a soulmate so that I could ‘move on’ or whatever, but this whole soulmate business isn’t easy when you’re blind. I’d like to meet whoever designed this bullshit system and just smack the hell out of them. Obviously, he couldn’t talk to his mom about it and since he went to a school for the blind he didn’t really have any friends who could read what I was saying or write back to me.”

Remy paused, looking at Logan’s face as if he was trying to gauge his reaction so far. He took another sip of his drink before continuing.

“Eventually I gave up trying. I figured if there was someone out there they would have said something by then, but nothing ever came. That was about three years after, mind you. I started dating a girl I went to high school with--Sylvia--and things were fine, I guess. Never felt right, but they say it never does without a soulmate.

“It’s hell living like that, writing every day for years, hoping they might write back but never seeing anything. I gave up trying but giving up hope was so much harder. I don’t think I ever actually did, honestly. They say you can tell if you’re missing a soulmate, y’know? You’ll be with someone else thinking you don’t have one but it’ll never feel quite right. Even poly relationships are said to feel it if they’re missing someone. Emile told me that once.

“Anyway, while I was trying to move on Emile started seeing a therapist to work out various issues. Took him another three years of seeing her before he finally decided to ask her to write me a message.

“ _I’m sorry I haven’t said anything yet. It’s a long story. I’m blind, so I’ve never been able to read anything you’ve written. Do you know Morse code?_

“It was the weirdest feeling in the world the first time he wrote to me. I thought I was losing my mind. Hell, I sent a picture to my sister asking her if I’d gone crazy. I honestly thought that I was imagining seeing anything there.”

He sighed, running a hand through his pink hair. Logan couldn’t help but feel bad for him, knowing what he’d been through. A nagging voice told him he was doing the same thing to Patton, Roman, and Virgil, but he ignored it. His situation was different. They had each other. How many times had he been over that with himself?

“‘Course I didn’t know morse code. Why would I? Ended up having to look it up online and slowly try to talk like that. It was one of the hardest things I’d ever done. Emile talked so fast and I kept having to tell him to slow down and start over. Writing to your soulmates is a stupidly difficult process when your soulmate can’t see. Whoever designed it like that has a date with my fists I swear to--” He stopped himself, realizing he’d already gone off on that tangent. Clearly, it was something that struck a chord in him.

“By that point, he’d been to therapy for a few years and had worked through the issues surrounding his parents and him not wanting a soulmate and all that. Realized that he actually wanted to know me and took the time to get the rest of his shit in line before finally saying something.

“Don’t get me wrong, I was pretty pissed he’d taken so long. Hell, I almost told him to shove it where the sun don’t shine. I mean, girl, that shit hurt. Six years without a word? At first, it didn’t matter to me what the hell his reasoning was, I started learning Morse code just to tell him off. ‘Course that didn’t last all that long. Eventually, I stopped being angry and just started being excited, and when he told me his side of the story I felt like I could understand why he’d done what he did.

“That was… What? 25 years ago now? Look what’s happened since then,” he gestured to the bakery they were in. “He’s a damn good therapist. Does what he does to help people like him, y’know? Works a lot with people who reject their soulmates, but also people who were rejected. Sometimes couples, too. I’m proud of him. Not to mention he’s one hell of a father to Horace and Patton.”

Logan nodded, not sure what else to do. It was a lot of information to process and left him feeling strangely dirty. No matter how many times he told himself his situation was different, a part of him screamed otherwise, and after hearing Remy’s story it was even harder to deny it.

Yes, his soulmates had each other, but they were still missing him, whether they knew it or not. Not telling them was rejecting them and rejecting soulmates led to heartache. Heartache like Remy had felt before Emile had revealed himself, heartache that his… that his mother had felt after finding out her soulmate had passed away.

He’d thought about it hundreds of times in passing, the pain he would cause them when they found out, but he’d never really let himself dwell on it. Would it tear them apart? Would they hurt in the same way that his mother had? Surely they would, surely it would hurt worse to lose him without having known him at any point. He’d thought for so long that it would hurt more knowing that he’d been ignoring them, but what if he were to die tomorrow? What would that have done to them?

There was another issue, now, though, and Logan wasn’t sure how to get around it. How was he supposed to say anything now that he’d met them? He couldn’t just pretend like he didn’t know they were his soulmates, not anymore. Wouldn’t it hurt them almost as badly to find out that he’d been lying to them all along?

“The point, babe,” Remy began, startling Logan out of his thoughts, “Is that I get it, I get not talking to them. I don’t know what your reasons are, but I’m sure you’ve got them. How long’s it been, though?”

“Almost five years,” Logan responded, despondent.

“They’re still writing to you, they still care enough to try. You don’t gotta make up your mind yet, but if you’re sure you never want to talk to them, you should at least tell them that much. Not knowing anything is torture, and if you die before them it’ll crush them.”

Logan sighed, pressing his head into his palms. “I know,” he whispered. “I know it will. I just… I can’t talk to them yet. I don’t know how I’d even begin to explain everything.”

“Ever thought about therapy?”

Logan shook his head. It wasn’t quite the truth, he _had_ thought about therapy a few times, but never about going for his soulmates. A therapist might help, sure, but he wasn’t even sure what he would talk about. Words weren’t his specialty and for therapy to work he’d need to be able to talk about things.

“Not saying you’d have to see Emile, there’s plenty of other people in town, but it might help. I can give you some names of some of his colleagues if you want.”

He nodded, watching as Remy pulled a pen from his apron pocket and quickly scribbled down a few names on a napkin. He slid it across the table to Logan who folded it and stuffed it inside of his wallet. It was something he could think about later, after he’d gotten home and had some time to sleep.

“Thank you, I… I really appreciate it.”

“Girl don’t mention it,” Remy replied, standing up from the table and offering Logan a hand. “Everybody needs someone they can talk to and it sounds like your mom can’t be that person for you. Hell, I get not wanting to talk to your friends about it too, seeing about their situation. I might not be the best but I’ll be here if you need it. Now let’s get you home so you don’t oversleep for school in the morning.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'd like to go ahead and mention that Horace is actually Deceit, and we probably won't actually be seeing any of him throughout the story. He might be mentioned here and there but probably not a lot. As for why I picked the name Horace for him, I'm not really sure. It was the first name that came to mind, honestly.  
> Some other information on Emile in this story if anyone's interested: He has a genetic disorder called retinoschisis, which in most cases doesn't actually cause full blindness. In some cases, it can cause the person to become completely blind, and I've actually based his condition and the progression of it off of the way my father's disorder progressed for him. In my dad's case, he was diagnosed at three with retinoschisis and was completely blind before age ten.  
> I really wanted to include this because I've never seen a soulmate AU like this talk about how it would work with a blind individual, and the idea of it seemed really cool to me. My dad was the one who came up with the morse code idea, actually.  
> Huge thanks to everyone who's been keeping up with this, and thanks again to everyone leaving kudos and comments! It absolutely makes my week ❤️! As always, if you have any comments or questions feel free to leave them here or at my Tumblr account @quentin-speaks.  
> Also if you're interested in being added to a tag list on Tumblr let me know and I'll get you added!


	11. Roman Holiday

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I am absolutely going to faint. We must remedy this, I can’t believe that you’ve never… What kind of childhood did you even have?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter's titled based on the song "Roman Holiday" by Halsey.

“Wait! Wait, wait, wait, wait! You’re telling me you’ve never seen _The Lion King?!_ ” Roman exclaimed. He’d jumped to his feet and was gesturing aggressively towards a VHS copy of said movie that was resting on a shelf in his room, nestled among various other Disney and Dreamworks titles. 

Logan had been sitting in Roman’s room with him for about half an hour, making small-talk about what little he knew about film. They’d somehow wandered into the territory of Disney, which was enough to send Roman on a tangent that he wasn’t entirely sure would have an end. It was hard to keep full attention when Roman seemed to circle back on the same ideas several times.

The room was nice, though, Logan thought. It was painted a soft ivory cream color, with a red vine patterned border along the top of the walls. The curtains were also ivory with the same red vines, and the quilt on Roman’s bed was a slightly darker shade of red. To Logan’s surprise, everything was in its proper place, neatly arranged. Even the photos pinned to the mirror of the vanity table were done so neatly, with a clear view of each person in the photo.

“Correct,” Logan answered, “I’ve also never seen…” His eyes glanced over the titles on the shelf next to the television. “ _ Finding Nemo, Sleeping Beauty, Toy Story _ … Actually the only one of those that I  _ have _ seen is  _ Alice in Wonderland _ .”

Roman let out a long, deep groan, pressing the back of his hand to his forehead. “I am absolutely going to faint. We must remedy this, I can’t believe that you’ve never… What kind of childhood did you even  _ have? _ ”

Logan shrugged. He’d been asked that question a few times before by several classmates, but he didn’t have a proper answer to the question. He’d always thought of his childhood as relatively average, yet on the occasions that he’d talked about it, everyone else would act as though he’d had a strange, unfulfilling experience. 

It bothered him, but he wouldn’t admit to it. Sure he hadn’t watched many Disney films or played video games growing up, but he’d always had his books and his music. When he was little he would sit in his backyard with a book, reading underneath the oak tree. He’d climbed up into the tree a few times, but his mother had always told him to come down. She was convinced that he was going to end up hurting himself. 

“Forget  _ Phantom _ , we’re starting with  _ Aladdin, _ ” Roman told him, grabbing the movie from its place on the shelf. He was mumbling to himself about the failures of Logan’s parents and the absolute outrage he felt at the fact that Logan had never seen any of some of the best movies ever created. “Next you’re going to tell me you’ve never played Pokemon or read  _ The Very Hungry Caterpillar _ , or had birthday cake.”

“Is that such a bad thing?” Logan asked. He was beginning to be actually worried about whether or not he’d offended Roman. Surely his lack of exposure to common media wouldn’t be enough to actually upset him. Yet, Roman’s mumbling set him on edge slightly. 

“No, just means we have a lot of ground to cover!” 

“What if I don’t like it?”

Roman paused, turning to look back at Logan from where he was sitting on the ground in front of him. He’d been fast-forwarding through the ads at the beginning of the VHS, and Logan couldn’t help but wonder why they were using such an outdated video system. “ _ If _ that happens we’ll move on to a different movie, but it won’t.”

“Awfully sure of ourselves, aren’t we?”

“Everybody loves Disney, Specks.”

Logan’s face flushed pink at the strange nickname. He wasn’t sure he’d ever get used to his soulmates calling him by titles that weren’t actually his name. Even as a child his mother had never had a nickname for him, had never shortened his name at all. She’d even gone as far as to fire a couple of babysitters for repeatedly referring to him by pet names. 

The more he thought about things like that from his childhood, the more he began to resent his mother. It made him feel guilty, but he really was upset at all of the things he felt like he’d lost because of her. How many years of isolation had resulted from the things she’d told him, the way she’d raised him? He wasn’t sure he’d ever be able to repair the damages he’d acquired after so many years, and the idea kept him awake at night sometimes.

After another moment of fast-forwarding Roman finally pressed “Play.” The Disney opening sequence began and Roman sighed wistfully at the sound of such familiar notes. The beginning scene of  _ Aladdin  _ began, and Logan kept his eyes locked on the screen, attempting to force his mind to focus on the images in front of him, and not how close Roman was sitting to him. 

Roman, Patton, and Virgil all seemed to have much more lax views on personal space than Logan did. Adjusting hadn’t been easy for him so far. Every small touch sent electricity coursing through his veins, jolting him back to the present in every situation. He’d suddenly remember how he needed to be more careful, how he needed to make sure that they never found out about him. It would send him into overdrive and he’d lose focus on whatever task was at hand. 

He kept his eyes on the screen though, ignoring the feeling of Roman’s eyes on him, letting himself become entranced by the movie. He was grateful for the fact that Roman had drawn the blinds closed, and even more so for the fact that he had gotten up only a moment or so into the film to turn the lights off, making it that much easier to focus. 

 

**_*********_ **

 

“I didn’t hate that,” Logan said after the movie had ended. It wasn’t quite the truth, though. He’d actually really enjoyed it but he wasn’t going to concede so easily. The indignant sound that Roman made made his heart flutter, and he couldn’t help but want to tease him more. 

“Didn’t hate it?! You sure seemed to like it Mr. Can’t-Look-Away!” 

“It was fine, I guess,” Logan shrugged. “What’s next?”

Roman shook his head in exasperation before going to turn the lights back on, ignoring Logan’s protest that it would be too bright. He gestured towards the shelf, “Why don’t you pick this time. Maybe you’ll ‘not hate’ that as well.”

Logan nodded, glancing over the titles again. He noticed a few that seemed familiar to him, such as  _ Fantasia _ , but decided against selecting one of those. They were looking for a movie with a distinct plot, and from what he understood  _ Fantasia _ was more like an animated symphony of sorts. He reminded himself to put on a list to watch later but continued looking through the rest of the films.

_ The Little Mermaid _ caught his eye, and he couldn’t help but remember how Virgil and Patton had played a song from it on the first night they’d all been together. That felt like so long ago now, even though it had only been about two and a half months. He couldn’t believe that so much time had passed. So much had happened since he and Virgil had first started practicing together back in January. 

“What about this one,” Logan said, pulling the movie off of the shelf and handing it to Roman. 

“I can’t believe you haven’t…” Roman’s voice trailed off as a small smile drew across his face, “Of course we can!” He put the new movie in and started to fast-forward through the ads.

Logan was thankful for the movies. They helped to curb the need for conversation, which made things much easier for him. He and Roman didn’t seem to have much in common, and when they talked the conversations always seemed stunted. It made Logan concerned, wondering if there was something that Roman wasn’t telling him. He avoided asking too many questions, though, afraid that it would lead to himself being asked things he couldn’t answer.

So far none of them had ever asked if he had a soulmate, and he couldn’t help but want to keep it that way. He’d dug himself into a bed of lies over the past nearly five years, and he wasn’t wanting to make it any worse. It was bad enough lying by omission to their faces, but lies of commission were, objectively, much worse. 

Instead, it was easier to keep pretending that he was soulless, to keep hoping that they thought that too. Most people talked about their soulmates frequently, and when someone didn’t, well, that usually meant they were soulless or that their mate had passed on or even rejected them.

Still, he couldn’t help but worry that they knew something about him. Why else would they have been so nice to him? Why else would they go out of their way to include him in things, to ask him to poetry readings on Wednesdays and watching movies on weekends? Perhaps they thought of him as a friend, yes, but was that really what friends did?

Logan wouldn’t have known. He’d never had friends before. Every attempt he’d made as a child had ended with him feeling much more alone than he had previously, until the point that he gave up. His mother had been right about one thing--keeping company only led to heartache.

So when would the heartache come with Roman, Patton, and Virgil? Surely it would hit eventually, they would get bored of him, or frustrated with him, or just decide that he wasn’t worth the trouble to keep around, and then they would leave. They would leave and what would he be left with? A mess that he would never know how to clean up? The same jaded outlook as his mother?

Most of his life he’d admired her, wanted to be just like her, but after the past few months, Logan’s entire opinion on her had changed. He didn’t want to grow up and be like her, all cold and alone and angry. He didn’t want to have a child he didn’t care for, to have no friends or family members to speak of. He didn’t… 

He didn’t want to be alone.

_ So tell them, _ his mind scolded.  _ Tell them and hope they forgive you. You can’t deny how right it feels with them, don’t you think they feel that, too? _

Logan resisted the urge to shake his head.  Some of his thoughts were very intrusive, and quieting them could be a struggle that he’d never quite learned to control.

_ Remy forgave Emile, and that was after six years. Don’t you think they can forgive you, too? _

He forced his mind to briefly recenter on the movie that was still playing, but it quickly wandered to Roman who was lying on his stomach next to him, feet kicked up in the air. It was a little more than halfway through and he couldn’t help but speak up, hoping it would distract his mind from the thoughts that attempted to fight their way back to the surface.

“Why doesn’t she just write to him?”

Roman sighed dramatically, rolling his eyes. “It’s one of the biggest plot holes in any Disney movie I’ve ever seen and I hate it. She could have just kissed him and explained it after she got her voice back! Prince Eric wouldn’t have minded after he understood what was going on!”

Logan laughed, surprised by Roman’s passion on the topic. “Good to know that I’m not the only one who saw that as ridiculous.”

Roman shrugged, turning his head back to the movie, clearly lost in thought. He hesitated for a moment before speaking, “You can keep a secret, right?”

Logan felt his heart speed up, eyes going wide at the question. He’d never been a fan of keeping others’ secrets. His life was full enough with his own.

Hesitantly, he nodded, swallowing hard.

“I mean really, promise? I’m not supposed to talk about this but I’m dying to tell someone.”

“You haven’t told your soulmates?” Logan asked.

“Patton’s really bad at keeping secrets and Virgil… If this pans out I want it to be a surprise for both of them, really,” Roman responded. 

“I promise.” 

“You know how Disney’s been making a bunch of live-action remakes recently? Like the  _ Beauty and the Beast _ one that came out a couple of years ago? And the  _ Cinderella _ one before that?”

He shrugged. He thought he remembered hearing about them, but wasn’t very familiar with any of it. Movies really weren’t his specialty, and he was surprised that Roman hadn’t seemed to catch on to that yet.

“Not your forte, I get it. Anyway, I got a second callback for the part of Prince Naveen in the live action version of  _ The Princess and the Frog _ ! Except I can’t talk about it because of contracts and…” Roman sighed, rocking back and forth with excitement or nervousness--Logan couldn’t tell which. “Look, I’m trusting you, okay? Please don’t tell anyone about this! Especially not V and Pat! I want it to be a surprise for them if I actually get the part! They’ll be so excited.”

“I won’t,” Logan promised. “So the second callback, that’s a good thing, right? I don’t know much about the casting process.”

Roman nodded before launching into an explanation about how casting worked for Hollywood movies. He talked for a long time, Logan listening intently and trying to file away as much of the information as he could, hoping that he’d remember it later down the line. He didn’t want to cause Roman to have to repeat himself in another year with a new role. 

Before they knew it the movie had ended and the VCR made a loud whirring sound as it rewound the tape. After a moment of deliberating Roman decided to order them a pizza while they continued watching another movie. It wasn’t like Logan had a curfew, and besides, his mother wasn’t home to care either way.

 

**_*********_ **

 

“It’s late,” Logan stated, sitting on the edge of Roman’s bed. They’d only gotten through half of  _ Hercules _ before Roman paused the movie in absolute outrage. Somehow they’d started talking about video games and Logan’s lack of experience with them.

“I don’t care about that! You can stay right here until you’ve  _ at least _ played  _ Pac-Man! _ ”

“What if I say no?”

Roman pouted, “Please? Come on! I’ll pick something you’ll like!”

Begrudgingly, Logan agreed. He watched as Roman leaped from the bed and flicked the lights back on, searching his shelf for a specific game. It was almost comical how animated Roman was when it came to exposing Logan to forms of media he’d missed growing up.

It wasn’t that Logan had never played  _ any _ video game before. He’d played  _ Pong _ once on a field trip to the children’s museum, and he figured that that counted for something. Still, that hadn’t been good enough for Roman, who insisted that newer games were much more interesting and engaging.

Logan hadn’t even realized that Roman had crossed his room over to his dresser and was pulling out clothes. “You’re right about it being late, though. Why don’t you just stay here tonight and I’ll take you home tomorrow. I’ll even have Dad make breakfast for us, it’ll be great.” He tossed a pair of Star Wars pyjamas into Logan’s lap, which he eventually agreed to put on after a few moments of protest. 

He walked down the hallway to Roman’s bathroom, intending to change quickly and head back to his room. After further inspecting the pyjamas, though, there was a cold twist in his stomach. The shirt was short sleeved and he absolutely couldn’t go back to Roman’s room with bare arms. 

His soulmates had been writing quite a bit the night before, talking through the entire conversation that Logan had had with Remy. Most of the writing had been washed away, but there were still some spots where parts of words were still visible. None of it was quite legible, but Logan thought he’d seen something about setting up a date or taking someone somewhere. It didn’t make much sense, but it was enough that he knew he’d have to cover himself before returning.

_ Or you could just pretend that you didn’t know,  _ his mind offered.  _ Just go back out and wait until he notices. He’ll ask, you know he will. Explain everything when he does, wouldn’t that be nice? No more hiding. _

That wasn’t an option, though, and he knew it. To just walk out without covering himself, to pretend that he had no idea that Roman was one of his soulmates? That was just ludicrous. Roman wasn’t wearing sleeves, Logan would have had to have noticed the writing on his arms at some point during the course of the day. He would have had to have noticed that it matched the writing on his own. 

Not to mention the countless other times he’d seen Patton and Roman’s bare arms. Sure, he hadn’t seen Virgil’s, but to have spent so much time with the three of them and not have noticed for at least one of them? It was absurd.

He decided to keep his undershirt on and prayed that Roman wouldn’t ask about it. He’d have to make up an excuse about being cold if he did, and Logan wasn’t too keen on lying to him any further, even if it was necessary.

Once back in Roman’s room Logan found that the television had been set up to play a game that he’d heard of several times but wasn’t terribly familiar with. A character with spiky hair was drawn on the screen, a stick in his hand. The speakers played a soft piano tune with the sound of crashing waves in the background, the words “Kingdom Hearts” displayed predominantly on the left-hand side.

Roman handed him the controller and instructed him to start a new game, insisting that he should start on “Normal” mode, as “Expert” would be too difficult considering Logan had never played a video game before. The screen went dark for a moment before a cutscene started.

“I’ve been having these weird thoughts lately,” the spiky-haired character said. Logan watched as he seemed to sink through water. The image changed to the same character standing in front of a beach while a silver-haired character stood in the surf.

The scene continued and suddenly the boy was standing on a yellow platform with what Logan recognized as Snow White. He moved forward as instructed, watching as several pedestals raised from the platform. He walked up to one but was unsure of how to interact with it.

“Press the circle button to jump,” Roman instructed, “Once you jump up there it’ll tell you about each item, then you can pick whichever one you want.”

“Does it matter what I pick?” Logan asked, jumping onto the platform with the sword that was in front of him. “I don’t want to pick the wrong one.”

“There’s no wrong choice, it just decides where to put your stats later in the game. Don’t worry! You can’t mess it up.”

He went through and read the description of each item, settling on keeping the staff, and when prompted to give up an item, he settled on the sword. 

The controller vibrated roughly in his hand, causing Logan to jump, nearly dropping it. 

“What was that?” he asked, glaring at Roman, who was grinning broadly.

“You can turn that off it you want,” he laughed. “You’ve really never played anything before, have you?”

Logan shook his head, “Why would I lie about that?”

Roman shrugged, and Logan turned back to the game, focusing on following the prompts on the screen. He attacked when prompted, battling the enemies on screen and asking Roman for help with finding which buttons were where when necessary.

He played through the start of the game, going through each platform as instructed. It wasn’t quite intuitive to him, and he kept finding himself having difficulty re-adjusting the camera to be able to see where he was wanting to look. Roman explained to him that most games used the right analog stick to look around, but for whatever reason, this one used the L2 and R2 buttons.

Eventually, he came to a platform that had the image of the princess from Beauty and the Beast on it, who Roman informed him was named Belle. As he walked forward the game warned him of his shadow becoming larger the closer he was to the light. A large monster appeared on the screen, pulling itself out of the character’s shadow.

“That’s a Lovecraftian monster if I’ve ever seen one,” Logan remarked, watching as the creature punched its hand down into the platform, the area around it swirling with black, blue, and purple shadows. The controller vibrated as the character was hit by something that Logan couldn’t see. “Wait! What do I do? Why’s it vibrating?”

Roman stifled a laugh, pointing at the screen, “Remember how to target? Do that and then just hit the X button a bunch.”

This continued for a moment, Logan running the character back and forth across the screen, barely able to keep from getting hit by the attacks. 

“Wait why can’t I hit him?” Logan asked suddenly, frustrated at the sound of panic in his voice. 

“You don’t have attack selected, press the up arrow,” Roman instructed, and Logan followed suit. He tapped the X button again and hit one of the monsters. “You’ve got it!”

He charged forward to the largest monster, the one that had come out of his shadow, and attempted to hit its legs with the sword. Nothing happened, so he continued trying, becoming slightly more frustrated with each failed hit. He made sure that “Attack” was still selected in the command menu, but it still wasn’t having any effect.

“Did I break it?”

Roman laughed openly this time, leaning forward towards the screen as if trying to get a better look. “No, you’re fine. Do you want me to tell you how to beat him?”

Logan grumbled. He wanted to know what he was doing wrong, but he wasn’t willing to let Roman come to his rescue. “I’ll figure it out.”

After a few moments, Logan realized that the only hits that were landing on the big monster were the ones aimed at its hands. He hit them repeatedly with the sword, alternating between the hands and the smaller shadows swarming around him. Eventually, he hit the monster for the final time, and a notification at the top left-hand corner of the screen told him that he’d leveled up.

“Wait that’s all you do?” He asked, pausing the game during the cutscene and looking over at Roman, who seemed to be absolutely delighted by Logan’s reaction.

“Pretty much, yeah. There're different monsters you fight and you can get friends that will help you along the way! Do you like it so far?”

Logan shrugged, “I don’t hate it, I guess. I thought it would be different.”

“Keep playing! We’ve got all night!”

Logan did as he was told, refocusing back on the screen and completing the tasks that he was assigned. It wasn’t long before he’d found himself immersed in the game, joking with Roman every so often about the story or the characters on screen. Before he knew it he’d already played through the first island that he was on and had ended up in a place called Traverse Town.

They continued like this for a few hours before finally becoming too tired to continue. Logan saved the game outside of the castle of the Queen of Hearts from  _ Alice in Wonderland _ .

“I liked that,” Logan admitted as he laid down next to Roman. They were both curled up on Roman’s bed, which was big enough to fit at least three people. It was soft and comfortable, more so than Logan’s own bed. “Maybe we could try a different game sometime?”

_ Virgil and Patton get to stay here whenever they want,  _ he thought bitterly. Jealousy had never been his best trait and it would often rear its ugly head at the worst of times.

“Of course. Now you see what you’ve been missing?” Roman mumbled, nearly asleep next to Logan. “Just think of all the other things you’ve been missing out on, too.”

_ I’m just glad I’m no longer missing out on you,  _ Logan thought as he slowly drifted off to sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've got a busy week coming up so I might be late on next weeks chapter or possibly end up missing it altogether. I'll have to see as the week goes on, but it'll probably be at least a few days late.  
> As always, thank you to everyone who's been leaving comments and kudos, y'all are the real MVPs. If anyone's got questions or comments feel free to leave them here or ask me over on my Tumblr page @quentin-speaks. I've also got a tag list over there for anyone who might be interested in being added.


	12. She

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Logan stared at his cards, unsure of which to pick. Nothing made any sense and it seemed to him that the entire purpose of the game was randomness. Did it even matter what he played?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter title is based on the song "She" by Dodie!  
> This took a little longer to write than I was expecting, but I finally got it put together.  
> A small warning for this chapter: there is a very brief, vague r*pe mention. It's not lingered on at all or gone into depth with. If you have any questions about that part let me know and I'll do my best to help navigate it!

Logan let his phone ring for several seconds before finally picking it up and saying hello to his mother on the other end of the line. It had been nearly a week since he’d spent the night at Roman’s and he was excited to know that him, Virgil, and Patton would be stopping by later that afternoon to celebrate his birthday.

“Logan?” His mother asked through the phone, causing his mind to snap back to the conversation at hand.

“Yes?” 

“I’m sorry that I can’t be there tonight. I know you were really upset with me last week. It’s okay if you’re disappointed, I understand.”

Logan hummed into the receiver, trying to clear his mind of the thoughts that were now creeping in. Honestly, he wasn’t disappointed at all. He was actually happy that she wouldn’t be home, that she wouldn’t have reason to complain about his soulmates being present. She’d have had a fit if she knew his actual plans for the night. “It’s okay, I know you’re busy,” he told her.

“I’ll schedule off for next year,” she promised him. “We can go to that bookstore up in Mulberry that you like.”

He sighed, cursing himself for doing so. “That closed a year ago, Mom.”

“Oh. Well somewhere else, then. I’ll make it up to you somehow.”

Logan didn’t speak for a moment, trying to think of something positive to add to the conversation. It frustrated him how little his mother paid attention to the things he said and did, even still. 

“It’s really fine,” he lied.

His mother’s voice faltered. “It’s not okay. I should know these things, I should pay more attention. It’s not fair to you that I’ve been so distant, I don’t mean to be.”

“It’s fine,” Logan repeated. He had heard everything she had to say before, every time they’d had an argument for the past several years. The fact of the matter was that she knew she was wrong, she just didn’t ever actually make an effort to change. Logan had just never noticed it before.

“Things have been hard, it’s not easy being a single mother. I always wanted what’s best for you but maybe I’ve been a little… overbearing. Just give me a chance, I’ll make it up to you, I’ll find a way.”

“I’ve been thinking, actually,” he started, trying to convince himself to go through with the conversation. “I was thinking that I’d like to see a therapist.”

Logan had thought about it several times over the past week after Remy had suggested it. Therapy might be able to give him some sort of clarity, or at least someone he could talk to. The idea was terrifying, but after doing some research he found that many people had had quite a bit of success going to therapy. If there was anything his mother could do to make up for all of the stress she’d caused him throughout his life, she could make an appointment with Dr. Emile Picani for him.

His mother hummed discontentedly through the phone. “A therapist? What would you need to see a therapist for?”

“It might be nice to talk to someone about college,” Logan lied. Surely his mother should have understood what he was asking, but she was oblivious as always. It never ceased to frustrate him, but he knew that stating his actual intentions so bluntly wouldn’t end well. “Everyone says it’s a big transition and my counselor at school seemed to think it might be difficult for me because of my age. I think seeing someone might help me adjust more quickly.”

She sighed heavily on the other end of the line, “I suppose you’re old enough to make your own decisions regarding this now.”

“I did some research and found someone named Dr. Emile Picani who works with people my age here in town. I was thinking I could make an appointment with him?”

“I’ll look into it,” she said finally. “I’ve got to go prepare for this trial, we can talk more tomorrow.”

His mother hung up the phone, leaving Logan sitting alone at the breakfast bar, hoping that his lie had been enough. The conversation seemed promising, but it wasn’t a guarantee that she’d actually make an appointment for him. Still, it was better than nothing. 

He sipped his coffee, thankful that he’d had the foresight to buy more before his mother left town. There were only a few things in life that Logan knew he absolutely could not go a day without, and coffee was number one on that list.

Virgil, Roman, and Patton would be out later in the afternoon, which left Logan plenty of time to straighten the house back up. It wasn’t particularly unclean, but taking extra time to dust and make sure that the trash was taken out seemed like a good idea. Besides, Roman and Patton had never been inside before and Logan wanted everything to be in its best shape before they came in.

It might not have been their first impression of him, but it was their first of how he lived, and it was important to make it a good one.

 

**_*********_ **

 

“It’s really easy,” Virgil said, shuffling the deck of cards. “Card Czar reads a black card, everyone else places a white card down, and then the Card Czar chooses the winner. Whatever’s the funniest or most offensive or something. It’s subjective.”

“I don’t understand,” Logan stated, staring at the white cards. None of them made any sense, as if they were a reference to something he’d never seen or done. One card read  _ A dolphin that learns to talk and becomes the Dean of Harvard Law School,  _ while another read  _ The flaming wreckage of the International Space Station. _ One of the cards simply read the word  _ Bees?  _ “What does…  _ Finding a nice elevator to poop in  _ have to do with anything? That’s disgusting.”

His soulmates broke out laughing. Patton doubled over, clutching his stomach and wheezing as if he couldn’t catch his breath. Clearly, they saw comedy in what he’d said, but he just couldn’t wrap his head around it. 

“Logan, buddy, you’re not supposed to read your cards out like that. It’s fine, we’ll just put it at the bottom of the stack,” Virgil laughed, his purple hair half concealing his eyes. “Why don’t we try a run so you can get an idea for how it works?”

Logan nodded, slipping the card he’d read aloud at the bottom of a stack of white cards. He pulled another card off the top after being prompted to, and read it.  _ Vigorous jazz hands. _

“ _ Teddy Roosevelt said the four manly virtues are honor, temperance, industry, and…” _ Virgil’s voice trailed off suggestively before explaining that the goal was to complete the sentence and to be sure to put the card face-down once he’d chosen it.

Logan stared at his cards, unsure of which to pick. Nothing made any sense and it seemed to him that the entire purpose of the game was randomness. Did it even matter what he played? He watched as Roman and Patton placed their cards in the center. 

Eventually, Logan decided not to even look, just picking a random card from his hand.

Virgil shuffled all the cards in his hand before laying them out across the bed. “ _ As Teddy Roosevelt said, the four manly virtues are honor, temperance, industry, and A micropig wearing a tiny raincoat and booties.” _

Everyone laughed except for Logan, who was still just as confused as before, if not worse. The randomness of it did seem to have an effect, though, so he figured he could get away with just playing any card from his hand throughout the game.

Virgil read the black card again,  _ “...industry, and Pretending to be one of the guys but actually being the spider god.” _

_ “...industry, and Firing a rifle into the air while balls deep in a squealing hog.” _

Virgil just barely choked out the last one, laughing around nearly every word. Patton had buried his face in his hands and Roman had fallen back onto the couch, laughing at whatever the joke had been. 

Logan was still confused, but clearly, the others were enjoying themselves. He’d had half the mind to excuse himself but they seemed to this game, and if he was being honest, he liked hearing them laugh. He liked being part of the reason that they were making such strange, joyful noises.

“I think that one goes to you, Lo,” Roman wheezed, holding out the black card towards Logan.

He took it and placed it neatly in front of him. 

“Understand it a little better?” Patton asked, wiping tears from the corner of his eyes. “I didn’t get half of the jokes when we first started playing this,” he admitted. “Some of them I still don’t get, but that’s okay! Sometimes they’re just funny to read anyway. You’ll get the hang of it”

He nodded, pulling a new white card from the top of one of the piles.  _ Licking things to claim them as your own. _

They continued through a few rounds, most of the points going to Patton, who was surprisingly willing to use very vulgar cards. Hearing him curse was foreign to Logan, and he couldn’t help but laugh a little when he heard it. Thankfully the others seemed just as entertained by it, so he wasn’t the odd one out. 

Eventually, Logan started to catch on to what the others found humorous, and started playing cards that he felt they might pick. Surprisingly enough, it started working, and before he knew it, he was starting to get a decent collection of points.

“It’s nice having an actual fourth player,” Patton hummed.

Roman and Virgil agreed with him, nodding their heads. They were both staring at the cards in their hands, trying to find a decent response to “ _ How am I retaining my relationship status?” _

“What do you mean?” Logan asked.

“Normally it’s just the three of us and it’s way too easy to guess whose card is whose. So we play with Rando Cardrissian.”

“Rando… What?”

“Rando Cardrissian. Basically you just pick a random white card off the top of one of the stacks and add it in. Usually it wins.”

“Oh, kind of like playing chess against a computer?”

Patton agreed with him as Logan set his card in the middle. Roman was still staring intently at his hand, trying to decide between two cards. He was down three points to Logan, and Logan could tell that it was starting to get to him, his competitive spirit winning over.

“It’s nice having you here, it feels…” Patton’s voice trailed off, seeming to think better of whatever it was he was going to say. “I think I can speak for all of us when I say I’m glad V met you.”

“He’s right,” Roman mumbled, tossing his card into the center. “Even if you’re kicking my ass right now.”

Patton sighed, sticking out his hand towards Roman. “Swear jar,” he said.

A dollar was placed in Patton’s hand after a moment of grumbling, and Logan had to hold back from laughing. He’d seen Patton write about a swear jar a few times, but he’d never actually believed it was enforced. It must have only counted if they weren’t quoting or reading from something, though. There had been plenty of curses on the previous cards and not once had he mentioned it until then.

“ _ How am I retaining my relationship status? _ ” Patton asked, holding the white cards close to his face as if he was having difficulty reading it further away. Logan knew that wasn’t the case, though, because he’d read the previous cards at a respectable distance. This was just for comedic effect. “ _ Sudden and unwanted slam poetry, Making out and stuff, or A duffel bag full of lizards.” _

Patton looked incredulously at the cards in front of him, shaking his head. “Just trying to get rid of cards?”

Virgil and Logan both shrugged, adding another white card to both of their hands. Logan didn’t pay much attention to who won that round, instead focussing on the fire he could see building behind Roman’s eyes. 

If there was anything Logan was, it was competitive. He didn’t like to lose to anyone over anything, and it seemed that Roman was much the same. Logan never would have admitted how much he enjoyed seeing Roman like that, frustrated yet focused, watching him intently. It was like he was waiting to see what Logan’s next move was before finally making his own.

Somehow Logan’s mind had wandered into dangerous territory, his eyes tracing the outline of Roman’s lips, his sharp jawline, back up to his dark brown eyes.  _ Beautiful  _ barely began to describe the man in front of him, and surely couldn’t sum up the three of them together. He just didn’t have the vocabulary to describe the way he was feeling about them now.

Even though he clearly hadn’t understood the game they were playing they had made an effort to include him. They’d been making an effort since the very beginning, and Logan couldn’t deny the way he was feeling about them anymore, not even to himself. He wanted them. He wanted everything being with them entailed. 

He wanted to tell them everything, to explain the situation, to hope for their forgiveness. He wanted to know exactly what Patton’s lips felt like on his, what Virgil and Roman’s hugs were like. The feeling ran so deep it ignited him, tingling sensations erupting over his entire body as if they were all writing to him at once. 

How was he going to tell them, though? He needed to talk to someone first, to figure out if it was even the right time, to prepare for… To prepare for the very,  _ very _ real possibility that they would reject him. Even if Remy’s story had made Logan feel better he had to acknowledge the possibility that Patton wouldn’t be as forgiving, much less Roman or Virgil. 

Logan had thought about that so many times, had worried for so long about the eventual outcome of the situation. It was hard to take his mind off of it some days. He’d sit there daydreaming about the ways they’d reject him, the ways they might leave him or hurt him. Would they be angry? Would they yell at him? The disappointment he imagined on their faces made his chest ache in a way he wasn’t proud of. 

Despite the number of times he’d thought about possible outcomes, he’d never actually considered what might happen if they  _ didn’t  _ reject him. The probability of things going well for him seemed incredibly low, and Logan had learned long ago that having hope could be more painful than just assuming the worst. Having hope just meant that when the pain came it hit that much harder.

Still, his mind wouldn’t let it go now. They had shown up for him.  _ They had shown up for him on his birthday when even his mother couldn’t be bothered to be there. _

That had to count for something! That had to mean  _ something! _

He glanced at Virgil, legs draped over the edge of the loveseat, his head resting in Patton’s lap. The sight made Logan jealous, the feeling of longing, of loneliness threatening to overtake him. What he wouldn’t do to be in Virgil’s position.

And then there was Patton, his green eyes trained thoughtfully on the cards in his left hand, his right carding gently through Virgil’s hair. Patton’s glasses were sliding down his nose but he made no effort to push them up, causing him to look much older than he actually was. 

How had Logan ever thought that he was better off without them? He wanted to go back in time and slap some sense into his younger self. Wanted to grab a pen and write something to them, to let them know that he was there and he wanted to be with them. He wanted all of the time he’d wasted back.

_ It’s too late for that now, _ he thought sadly.  _ I can’t change the past, it’s stupid to wish for it. _

It didn’t matter what he thought, though. He knew in his heart that even though there was no changing the past, he could change his future. He could tell them, he could say something,  _ anything _ .

_ Talk to Dr. Picani first,  _ he thought. 

Logan wasn’t entirely sure about the idea of talking to Patton’s father, but he felt he could trust him as a therapist. Besides, the law said that therapists couldn’t talk about their patients unless they were a danger to themselves or others, and Logan definitely wasn’t a danger. He might have dug himself into a pit but he wasn’t going to hurt himself. There was nothing to worry about. 

Dr. Picani wouldn’t be able to tell anyone anything about him, and even if he did Logan wasn’t planning on telling him his soulmates names. As far as Dr. Picani would be concerned, Logan’s soulmates would be three mystery people. The plan was perfect, he just needed to actually get it set into motion.

 

**_*********_ **

 

Logan stifled a laugh as he realized that Patton had fallen asleep already, his head resting on the arm of the loveseat. Roman seemed to be following suit, his eyes barely open as he attempted to focus on the hushed conversation that Virgil and Logan were having.

“So you just get to stay here alone and she goes off on business trips all the time?” Virgil asked, his voice barely above a whisper so as not to wake Patton. Roman’s eyes had fallen completely shut now and he was snoring softly.

“More or less.”

“Wish I had that kind of peace and quiet…”

Logan knew the words weren’t meant to hurt but they still did. It wasn’t surprising that Virgil wished he could be alone, that his parents wouldn’t be around, but the reality of it was much less pleasant. Every kid dreamed of having the house to themselves until they actually got their wish.

“I just mean,” Virgil corrected after having seen the look on Logan’s face, “that it gets so loud at my house sometimes. Holly and Bailey just turned five, so you can imagine what that’s like, and Arya is three.”

Logan hummed, nodding slightly. He couldn’t really imagine what it would be like to have siblings. “Kids can be loud,” he offered. 

A strained laugh came from the back of Virgil’s throat, “I was so mad when Mom had the twins. It’d been just the three of us for so long and suddenly there was going to be five of us? And we had to move because we didn’t have enough room for them and I thought… I guess I thought they’d forget about me.”

“That’s horrible.”

Virgil sighed. “When Mom and I first came over here it was just the two of us. Then she met my other mother and suddenly we had a family and that was hard enough. I’ve never even…” He stopped himself, pausing and shaking his head. Logan could tell that whatever he’d been about to say was painful for him. “I hated her at first, y’know? It’d been just me and Mom since I was born and then suddenly there was this new lady who was nice but maybe too nice and she always wanted to play games with me and take me with them places and I didn’t trust her. She really is just that nice, though.

“They got married when I was six and, uh, I guess after that everything was pretty great. But then when I was twelve Mom got pregnant. It was an accident, they didn’t even know that Ma could… Anyway, then Holly and Bailey came along and everything was different.”

A sad feeling washed over Logan. He’d never been through an experience like Virgil’s but he could kind of imagine what it might have been like. If Merida had ever come home and told Logan that she was going to have a baby he… Well, he wasn’t sure how he would react, but he had a feeling it wouldn’t be positive.

“It’s better now, though?”

“Yeah,” Virgil replied, not offering any further explanation.

Logan wasn’t sure what to say, but his vocal cords betrayed him, speaking before he’d been able to think of what might come out of his mouth. “I don’t know what it’s like to suddenly gain siblings but… I, uh, well… My mother’s soulmate just died a few months ago, so I can understand what big changes are like.”

The words were out of his mouth before he could think better of them, Logan had never talked to anyone about that, he’d never even talked to his mother about it beyond that first morning. The thought of bringing it up always scared him, but here he was, telling Virgil…

Virgil, who made him feel so secure, who made him feel so safe. The way he smiled, the way he laughed, it always made Logan feel so much more at ease, as if he was being wrapped in a warm blanket. He’d always wondered why the universe gave him the soulmates it did, but talking to Virgil, stargazing with Patton, and watching Roman dance giddily around the room when he was excited? There were no more questions as to  _ why _ in Logan’s mind.  _ Why _ had never really mattered in the first place.

“Oh,” Virgil’s face fell, his eyebrows knitting together in what Logan wasn’t sure was confusion or concern. “Were they not…? Were they not together?”

Logan pressed his face into his hands, narrowly missing elbowing Roman in the process. He groaned, “No they weren’t. I never talked about this I don’t know why I even brought it up.”

“I get it. You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to.”

He shook his head. “She thought she was soulless,” Logan told him. “I guess sometimes people reject their soulmates.”

A heavy silence hung in the air, the bitterness in Logan’s words making him feel so much worse. Rejection was so unfair, he could see that now.

Virgil’s face turned sour, but he stopped himself from saying whatever he must’ve been thinking. He changed the subject slightly. “So what about your dad?”

“Never met him.”

“Oh. Mine either.”

They paused, Logan’s eyes fixated on the space between Virgil and Patton. The television was playing a song in Japanese from a playlist Patton had put on before falling asleep. A drawing of a character with red hair was on the screen, they were wearing a dress with piano keys across the top. Logan wasn’t sure what the character had to do with the song, but he didn’t pay much mind to it.

“Do you ever feel like you want to?” He asked Virgil, who had seemed to become lost in the song. “Meet your dad, I mean.”

Virgil shook his head, his eyes dark and cast down towards the coffee table. “I guess maybe sometimes but not really. Mom didn’t… I don’t usually talk about it. Not even Ro and Pat know.”

“You don’t have to say anything.”

“No, no. I trust you, L. Just never talked about it before,” he took a deep breath and Logan noticed his hands shaking slightly. “Mom didn’t even know him, she was just in the wrong place at the wrong time. I shouldn’t… I shouldn’t even exist.”

The realization for what Virgil was saying hung in the air around Logan, his lungs feeling tight. Anger boiled inside of him, more intense than he’d ever felt in his life. It was almost enough to frighten himself--almost. 

“I’m glad you do.”

“I… I don’t really want to meet him, but sometimes I think about it. Mostly think about just beating the crap out of him for everything he put her through,” his voice trailed off for a moment, seeming to focus back on the music that was playing. It was a different song now, an animation of a girl with pink hair sitting in front of a clock on the screen. “What about your dad?”

“I don’t know much about him,” Logan admitted. “He and my mom got divorced a few months before I was born. I guess he’d always wanted kids until he found out she was going to have me, and then he ran off.”

“That’s weird. Don’t you know anything else about him?”

Logan told him what little extra information he had about his father, about how his mother had always compared the two of them. Apparently he’d been an emotional man, someone who valued interpretation over logic and reasoning. Aside from that, there wasn’t much his mother had ever said.

“Hmm,” Virgil hummed. “What kind of person says they want kids and then runs off the second they find out they’re having one?”

“That’s what I keep asking!” Logan exclaimed, cursing himself for letting his voice rise a little too loud. Thankfully Patton and Roman didn’t stir. 

“Do you want to meet him?”

“Yes, I think so. I have a lot of questions that Mom can’t answer. It’d be nice to ask him.”

“And you don’t know his name?”

Logan shook his head, “His last name is Sanders, I know that much. Mom kept it in the divorce.”

“What about one of those DNA tests? Maybe he’s done one and you could find him that way?”

“Mom would never let me do that. It’s okay, though, I’m better off without them.”

Logan hadn’t even realized that he’d said “them” instead of “him.” If Virgil had picked up on it he didn’t let on, instead changing the topic slightly away from their fathers.

“So your mom? I know you said she’s on business trips a lot but, uh, does she ever actually come home?”

“Sometimes. When it’s convenient for her. She’s supposed to be back before my graduation so I’ve still got another week before I see her again.”

Virgil hummed quietly, throwing his head back against the loveseat. The dark circles under his eyes were much darker now and Logan knew that they were both desperately in need of sleep. “You think she’ll be there?”

“I really don’t know,” Logan whispered, voice barely audible. “It’s late, we should get to bed.” He stood slowly from the couch, careful to make sure he didn’t wake Roman. He turned off the television and headed towards the light switch, turning on the flashlight on his phone so he could see his way back into the living room.

There were two air mattresses pushed together on the floor behind the couch that Logan had nearly forgotten about. They woke the others and helped them get situated on the mattresses before following suit. 

He and Virgil were lying next to each other, a half-foot of space between them, wrapped in their own individual blankets. He was nearly asleep when he felt Virgil’s arm curl around him, Virgil’s body snuggling closer to him. 

Logan couldn’t help but relax into the touch. Surely Virgil had fallen asleep. Maybe he had a habit of cuddling up next to Roman or Patton while they were sleeping next to each other. Still, it was comforting and Logan couldn’t help but wish it would never end.

It must have been wishful thinking, but he thought he heard Virgil whisper, “I love you, L, happy birthday,” right before his mind finally drifted off.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm hoping to have a short companion fic for this put up within the next week or so. It'll cover some details from Roman, Virgil, and Patton's POVs and hopefully answer some questions about some previous events. I don't have an exact timeline for when that will be out, but I'll be making as part of a series for this, so it should be easy enough to find.  
> As always, a huge thanks to everyone who's been keeping up with this as well as leaving kudos and comments! And a shoutout to everyone who's new here, thanks for reading!  
> If you have any comments or questions feel free to leave them here or over on my Tumblr page @quentin-speaks


	13. Cherry Wine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “You quoted Hannah Montana in your graduation speech?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is named after the song "Cherry Wine" by Hozier!  
> Sorry that this took so long to upload, I've been having an absolutely hectic time out here. Updates are probably going to be much more sporadic from here forward, but we're getting down to the final stretch now.

_ It isn’t her fault this time,  _ Logan thought.  _ There was a tornado, she can’t control the weather. _

The knowledge that it wasn’t his mother’s choice for her flight to be canceled didn’t provide him much comfort. No matter which way he looked at it, his mother had failed him once again. She could have taken an earlier flight. She’d been finished with her business the night before, she could have left early, but no. It seemed like she always found some excuse not to show up.

Logan looked out over the auditorium, eyes searching the crowd of unfamiliar faces with the final ounces of hope draining from him. He felt like Pandora, reopening her box and finally letting hope free. 

The thing was, he wasn’t even sad anymore. He wasn’t disappointed, he wasn’t upset, he was just numb. Completely numb. 

What did it matter anyway? Why had he always cared so much about someone who clearly hadn’t been interested in him? So what if he didn’t have parents, plenty of people had it much worse than he did. 

The guest speaker was talking at the microphone, but Logan didn’t pay him much mind. He just wanted the stupid ceremony to be over; for his stupid speech to be over with. Sitting on the stage, looking out over the auditorium at his graduating class, their faces clearly just as bored as his own, he couldn’t help but feel a strange longing for a time before high school. 

He could have had two years left. Who knows, maybe he could have even had friends. He could have spent time around people his own age, maybe it would have been good for him. Now, though, Logan would never know. His time in high school was over, he just had to give his Valedictory Speech after the guest speaker finally stopped droning on and on about the importance of social networking. 

Logan heaved a heavy sigh, thankful that it wasn’t loud enough to interrupt the speaker. It had felt like the ceremony had been going on forever, and he was ready to leave. He had places to be and people to see, a life to live that was finally,  _ finally  _ out of high school. No matter what could have been, Logan had to admit that he was happy it was coming to a close.

He scanned the audience again, his eyes locking with a familiar purpled-haired boy and his soulmates sitting in the back row by the door. Virgil smiled softly at him, while Roman and Patton both gave him a big thumbs up. 

A smile crept over Logan’s face, a warm fuzzy flutter welling up in his stomach, pushing its way into his chest and throat. His eyes stung as the realization that he wasn’t alone settled over him. For once, he wasn’t ashamed when he felt a few small tears spill over the corners of his eyes.

Virgil, Patton, and Roman hadn’t talked to him about coming to his graduation, but they’d done so anyway. They’d gone out of their way to be there for him, and Logan couldn’t help but think about what he thought he’d heard Virgil say that night at his house, with his arms wrapped tightly around him.

_ “I love you, L, happy birthday.” _

Surely Virgil hadn’t actually said that, surely it had been a dream, but just the thought made Logan giddy with excitement, something he’d never truly felt before. Even if it was a dream, Logan was sure now of what it felt like to love someone. His soulmates were so much more than he had ever hoped for and finally, he felt like he was ready. Logan was going to take his chances, even if he wasn’t sure it would last. The heartbreak that would follow if they ever left would be unbearable, that much Logan was sure of, but he didn’t care about the consequences anymore. 

He hadn’t even realized that his principal had stepped forward to the microphone until her voice rang out over the crowd. She spoke sharp and clear, snapping Logan out of his train of thoughts. “And finally, to close out our 2019 Commencement Ceremony, a word from our Valedictorian, Logan Sanders.”

The crowd clapped as Logan shook himself from his own thoughts, standing and walking as confidently as he could muster towards the stage. His knees felt a little weak, though he wasn’t sure why. Logan had always loved public speaking, but the idea of so many eyes being on him at once was a little nerve-wracking. 

Logan reached the podium and unfolded the paper in his hand that contained his speech. He cleared his throat, taking a deep breath, “Infinitesimal.”

The audience stared at him, his classmates bearing looks of pure confusion. A girl in the back row motioned with her hand like she was telling him to continue. He would, but the pause was there for a reason.

Roman had suggested it, actually, after looking up the last few years valedictory speeches for Ridgedale High School on YouTube. He’d been the one to point out that every year Principal Romley introduced the Valedictorian by asking them to offer a word.

_ “Word, singular,”  _ Roman had said.  _ “Just say one word and nothing else, then pause. Wait for people to look a little uncomfortable, I promise, it’ll be funny.” _

Looking over the crowd, though, Logan wasn’t sure if  _ funny _ was the right word. The audience did look quite uncomfortable, though, so he took that as his cue to finally move forward.

“Tiny, minute, minuscule,  _ infinitesimal.  _ These are all words that could be used to describe our lives up until this point. High school, middle school, and everything before is but an extremely small part of our lives.

“The observable universe from our place here on Earth is 46.508 billion light-years across. In this observable space, there are more than 100 billion galaxies. Our galaxy, the Milky Way, is only about 100 thousand light-years across, which is incredibly small in the grand scheme of things. 

“What I mean is that our efforts so far have had very little impact on the larger world around us. We may have grown important within our own spheres, but once we breach these bubbles, we find ourselves in a world much larger than anything we’ve experienced before. There’s a quiet beauty in understanding the fact that, to our universe, we are smaller than most bacteria.

“Even though our influence thus far has been small, it’s important to remember that, in the great words of Hannah Montana,  _ life’s what you make it _ . We have time to figure out who we are and what we want, and now that we’ve finally taken this step towards the rest of our lives, we can finally create a lasting impact. There is nothing left to hold us back from our own desires except for fear.

“I urge all of you to use fear as a stepping stone. It may be scary to follow your dreams and to take chances, but think of the future you wish to build. If you let fear stop you at the door, will you ever truly be happy? Live your life to the fullest and take the chances you’re most afraid of. Major in something you feel you can never get a career in, apply for that job you’re sure you won’t get, write that first message to your soulmates five years too late. Don’t let fear hold you back from the future you want to be a part of.

“As we go forward, I would like for each of you to remember the best of your time here at Ridgedale. We’ve come such a long way from the children we all were when walking through those worn-out double doors at the front of the building for the very first time. We go forward now with the knowledge that even though our time here has been short, we have the ability to push ourselves beyond the infinitesimal lives we have lived thus far. Tomorrow is another day and infinity reaches its arms out to each and every one of us, waiting for us to finally embrace it.

“Class of 2019, I wish you all the best of luck. I hope that going forward you will all take the positive opportunities that arise for you, regardless of your own fear. I will leave you with a quote, from the poet Anis Mojgani in his work  _ Shake the Dust:  _

**_So when the world knocks at your front door_ **

**_Clutch the knob tightly and open on up_ **

**_And run forward and far into its widespread, greeting arms_ **

**_With your hands outstretched before you_ **

**_Fingertips trembling, though they may be._ ** ”

 

**_*********_ **

 

“You quoted  _ Hannah Montana _ in your  _ graduation speech? _ ” Roman asked, still absolutely incredulous. He’d muttered the question a few times over the last several minutes, but now that they were all in the car, he spoke louder.

“I was trying to appeal to everyone’s common interests,” Logan replied. “I wanted to be--what did you call it the other day, Roman? ‘Hashtag relatable’?”

Virgil groaned in the driver’s seat, burying his face in his hands. Roman and Patton both laughed.

Logan couldn’t help the feeling of pride that swelled in his chest. His speech had gone perfectly, as did the rest of the ceremony. There was nothing that could ruin his day now, absolutely nothing. 

He watched out the window as Virgil pulled the car out of the parking lot. The sky was clear and sunny for the first time in several weeks. 

Patton and Virgil were talking, though Logan wasn’t quite sure what they were saying. His mind felt far away as he stared out the window, thoughts entering and exiting his mind at a million miles a minute. 

_ How do I tell them? _ He thought.  _ Should I just rip it off like a bandaid? _

Logan glanced at the other boys in the car, all of them still locked in conversation. They were joking about something, but Logan hadn’t heard what. He laughed in unison anyway, hoping they wouldn’t notice.

_ Maybe I could write something?  _

Logan imagined finding a pen and slipping away to a bathroom, writing an apology for having waited so long on his arm or leg, and then coming back into Roman’s room. His soulmates would be staring down at the strange new writing on their bodies, questioning the color and how it had gotten there. It would probably send them into a panic, they might even feel as if Logan was intruding on a special moment. How would he explain everything to them then?

_ Okay, not that. What about changing out of this gown and just not putting an undershirt on? Leave your arms bare and let them piece things together themselves. _

He fiddled with the hem of one of his gown sleeves absentmindedly as he thought about this. He’d been over that option more times than he could count, and each time he’d thrown the idea aside. It was too indirect, he wasn’t entirely sure that his mates would notice. Beyond that, he would either have to explain that he’d known all along, which would make the method seem even worse, or he would have to lie and pretend he had no idea. 

If Logan was going to be telling Virgil, Roman, and Patton that he was their soulmate, he was going to do it without lying to them. He was going to tell them everything.

_ What about the letters? _

Too personal, too vulnerable. Later, once the relationship had been more established, Logan could show them. Only once he was sure they weren’t going to cut him off and leave him behind. 

_ Music,  _ he thought.  _ I could play them one of my songs. _

That was an idea worth keeping. He could sit them down, play them one of the many songs he’d written for them, and afterward… Afterward, he could tell them, just rip it off like a bandaid. Let the words pour out in whatever way felt most natural, like so many people do. 

Maybe Logan didn’t need an elaborate plan. Maybe he just needed his cello and an endless pool of courage.

He turned his thoughts back to the conversation, tuning his brain to the words that Patton was saying. 

“So anyway, Horace said he’s spending the summer with Selene in Athens, so we don’t have to worry about any of his pranks or anything this year.”

“I kinda miss him,” Roman mused. 

Logan could see that Virgil’s knuckles had turned white from how tightly he was gripping the steering wheel. “Don’t take this the wrong way, but I’m glad,” he said.

There was more to that than Virgil was saying, but Logan didn’t press for answers. From the way Patton had described his brother in the past, Logan could imagine why he might set Virgil on edge.

“Sorry to change topics,” Logan ventured, “but would it be possible to stop by my house? I need to grab something and it’d be nice to change out of this gown.”

Virgil agreed, seeming relieved that the previous conversation had ceased. His grip loosened on the steering wheel and his shoulders visibly relaxed. “One step ahead of you.”

 

**_*********_ **

 

Logan, Patton, and Virgil were lounging in hammocks, looking out over Roman’s backyard that was overgrown with flowers, shrubs, and trees. Logan could place some of the flowers--peonies, pansies, irises--but some he’d couldn’t think of the names for. There was a lilac bush tucked next to the shed, and several silver maples dotting the back edge of the property where he was sitting. 

Cobblestone paths crossed through the yard, breaking up the different flowers and shrubbery. Arched wooden canopies stretched over the paths with fairy lights hanging from them. A few stone statues and birdbaths poked up out of the gardens here and there.

Logan hadn’t noticed the yard the last time he was at Roman’s house, and he hadn’t put much thought towards the interior. Now, though, he was beginning to wonder just what Roman’s parents did for a living, how they could afford such a nice house. They must have had amazing landscapers.

He stared up at the trees above him, watching as several goldfinches flitted about the branches, chirping happily at each other. Their songs seemed to fit oddly well with the soft melody that was coming from the radio next to Virgil’s hammock. The playlist that Roman had started before going inside was soft and gentle, a mix between folk and jazz that Logan had to admit he approved of. He’d never heard several of the songs and artists, but every so often Louis Armstrong, Duke Ellington, or Frank Sinatra would play.

Patton hummed along to a song Logan didn’t recognize, drumming his fingers across the edge of his hammock. For a moment, Logan forgot that he’d ever hidden himself away from his soulmates. The idea seemed so foreign to him, so strange that he ever would have believed he was better without them in his life. Obviously, that was the furthest thing from the truth. 

“I’ve got lemonade and grilled cheese for everyone,” Roman called as he walked down the cobblestone path towards them. He was carrying a tray with plates and drinks stacked on it like a waiter, which made Logan stifle a laugh. Roman stopped at a nearby picnic table, placing the tray on it. “Dad said we have stuff for s’mores, too, if you guys want them.”

“Do you even have to ask?” Virgil said as he twisted himself out of his hammock.

Logan and Patton followed suit, taking seats across from Roman and Virgil. They each grabbed for a sandwich, which, much to Logan’s surprise, was nothing like any grilled cheese he’d had before. Whoever had the idea to put jam on a grilled cheese was a genius.

Roman teased Logan about his speech again as they ate. It was strange how distant that morning had felt already, as if his graduation had happened days or weeks ago instead of mere hours. It wasn’t even as though much had happened, just that for the first time in longer than Logan could remember, he was relaxed. He could get used to that.

They finished eating after a few minutes but stayed sitting around the picnic table. Patton was telling a story about a strange customer at work from the other day, while Virgil leaned heavily against Roman. The radio was still playing from the playlist that Roman had started earlier, which both he and Logan were humming along to.

“You like Frank Sinatra?” Roman asked once Patton was finished with his story.

“Yeah,” Logan responded, more focused on the lyrics of the song than anything. “I like a lot of jazz.”

A huge grin broke out across Roman’s face. Logan couldn’t help but smile back at him. The sun was nearly completely set, the lights above the canopies had flickered on. They reflected in Roman’s eyes, making them appear almost gold in the twilight. It wasn’t the first time that Logan found himself staring breathlessly at Roman, who never appeared to notice. He must’ve gotten stares like that often.

“ _ These two _ don’t appreciate my music as much as I wish they would. Emo Nightmare over here acts like jazz is the worst thing to happen since the extinction of the dinosaurs.”

“I do not!” Virgil protested through a grin. “It’s not  _ that _ bad, could be country. But anyway, I’m gonna go look for s’mores.”

Patton offered to go with him and carried the plates back with him as well. They disappeared into the garden, joking about some new TV show with angels and demons that they had been watching.

For a moment Logan and Roman sat in silence, both staring at the purple and blue sky. The sun had just dipped past the horizon and dozens of fireflies were flying through the flowers.

“Do you dance?” Roman asked suddenly.

A strained laugh left Logan as he shook his head, “No, not under any circumstances.”

“Oh come on now, why don’t you give it a try? I’ll teach you!”

“Oh, no, that’s… No thanks.”

“It’s not hard! I promise none of us will laugh or anything!”

Logan wanted to say no again, but Roman’s big puppy dog eyes were almost as enticing as Patton’s. How could he say no to a face like that? “I guess,” he grumbled, “but if I step on your feet you can’t get mad.”

“Deal!”

Roman moved to Logan’s side of the table as quick as lightning, offering his hand to him. Logan took it, following him out towards one of the paths. 

Logan had been close to Virgil and Patton plenty of times. Patton was a hugger and there was no escaping when he set his mind to it. Not that Logan ever wanted to, though. Patton’s hugs were warm and inviting in the same way that Logan always assumed a father’s hugs would be. It made him feel safe and secure.

Virgil was more cautious, but recently Logan had noticed him brushing against him more often. He’d feel Virgil’s hand brush against his back as he walked past, or notice him graze against him as he reached for the remote. Not to mention the past weekend when Virgil had cuddled against him. Logan was so happy to have woken the next morning with Virgil’s arms still around him, his face buried into Logan’s chest. 

With Roman, though, it was different. He and Logan had kept a respectable distance for the most part. It seemed as if they’d set an invisible barrier between each other. Roman had never appeared very keen to remove that barrier and Logan didn’t mind that. Physical contact was still quite foreign to him and he was sure that Roman had picked up on that fact.

Now, though, Logan was extremely aware of Roman’s hand in his. Logan wished that he could read minds, that he could understand the meaning behind Roman’s actions. Was this just a dance between friends, or was it something more? How was Logan to tell?

“Beyond the Sea” by Bobby Darin ended as Roman finally stopped in the middle of the garden. A new song started, something that Logan couldn’t recognize. The guitar was soft and sweet, and once again Logan couldn’t help but notice how the sound of the birds chirping in their trees seemed to fit with the melody. He was sure that he hadn’t heard this song yet, but it reminded him so much of the one from earlier that he was positive it was the same artist.

“Don’t worry,” soothed Roman. “I’ve got you. Just put your left hand on my shoulder and leave your right in mine.”

Logan moved his left hand to rest on Roman’s shoulder. “What do I do with my feet?”

“Just follow my lead.”

Logan stared down at both of their feet, trying to move in time with Roman’s. Every few steps he would nearly trip or end up stepping on Roman’s toes. 

“Sorry, I’m not very good at this,” admitted Logan. “We can stop, I don’t want to hurt you.”

Roman laughed, bright and cheerful. The sound made Logan’s head snap up. He looked directly into Roman’s eyes and realized that he’d just been staring at the ground in silence. He couldn’t help but think that that might have been for the better, though. 

Roman’s eyes were the color of cinnamon and seemed to look straight into Logan’s mind. When he smiled, his eyes smiled with him. Everything about him seemed to be designed to make Logan feel warm.

“You’re doing fine,” he promised, “stop thinking so hard. Just keep your eyes on me, don’t worry about what your feet are doing.”

The advice wasn’t easy to take, but after a few seconds, Logan realized he was doing better. He wasn’t stepping on Roman’s feet quite so often. Much to his surprise, Logan was actually starting to enjoy himself. 

He felt Roman’s hand raise his own, and without a thought, Logan spun around. Roman caught him, pulling him close. 

They were so close together Logan could feel Roman’s breath tickling against his neck. Roman wore such a gentle smile and the fairy lights were catching in his eyes in just the right way now, lighting them up in the same glittery shade of gold that Logan had seen earlier. Even though Roman was shorter than he carried himself with such confidence that Logan couldn’t help but be a little jealous. 

He wasn’t sure who moved forward first, but suddenly Logan felt his lips connect with Roman’s. For a brief second, everything seemed right with the world. All of his cares and troubles melted away. There were no secrets, no lies, no sadness or pain. All that mattered was how soft Roman’s lips were, how his cologne smelled of firewood and mint, how strong Roman’s arms were around him.

Then the realization of what was happening clicked in Logan’s mind. He pushed himself away from Roman with enough force to send them both off-balance. Logan tripped and nearly fell directly into the flowers, but he managed to catch himself, instead toppling onto the stone pathway. 

Roman managed to stay upright, though he looked frazzled. Shame coursed through Logan’s veins and he averted his eyes.

“Sorry!” He exclaimed, staring at the smooth stones of the walkway. “I don’t--I didn’t mean--That--That can’t happen again! Just forget that happened!” 

Roman’s hand fell on Logan’s shoulder, but he shrugged it off. The full realization of the fact that he’d just kissed Roman without any explanation settled over him. Logan was sure that he’d made the biggest mistake of his life. How was he supposed to look Virgil and Patton in the face and explain to them what he’d done?

“Let’s just pretend this never happened,” Logan whispered, eyes stinging in the worst of ways.

“It’s okay,” Roman tried to comfort him. “We don’t have to talk about it.”

Logan nodded and waved Roman on, muttering something about catching back up to him. For the moment he just needed a second to be alone, to gather his thoughts.

Clearly, he wasn’t as ready for all of this as he’d thought he was.

 

**_*********_ **

 

“Thanks for driving me home, Virgil,” Logan mumbled as he pulled his cello out of the backseat. He hadn’t even gotten close to playing the song he’d planned. The disaster he’d created with Roman had thrown the entire night off and there was no way Logan was feeling confident enough to say anything after that. 

“Any time,” Virgil offered. “We should get coffee or something later this week, just the two of us. Feels like we’re always with Pat and Roman, and for as much as I love them, it’s nice to get away sometimes, too.”

Logan nodded and muttered an agreement before closing the car door and heading inside. The house was still dark and there were no extra pairs of shoes by the door, indicating that--thankfully--Logan still had the house to himself for the night. The last thing he needed was to explain to his mother why he was walking into the house with tears in his eyes.

It was just that he’d been so sure that he was ready. He’d never been more positive about a choice in his life, but it had managed to backfire on him completely. Whatever it was that had happened between him and Roman had made it abundantly clear that whatever progress Logan thought he’d made didn’t exist. Nothing had actually changed. He was still just a stupid little boy who was too afraid of his soulmates, too afraid of his own emotions, too afraid of growing up and being just like his father. Just like his mother had always accused him of being. 

That didn’t matter, though. The ball was already rolling and Logan wasn’t sure if he could stop it or even divert its course. What was even worse was that--despite the absolute catastrophe the night had turned into--he still wasn’t sure he even  _ wanted _ to divert the course. 

Roman hadn’t even seemed upset. He didn’t even seem like he was surprised, and if he’d told Virgil and Patton before Logan had gotten back to the picnic table, they didn’t seem upset either. Nothing had changed between the four of them except for Logan’s own actions. His thoughts were running rampant, racing through his brain like angry spirits, pulling old fears out from the deepest depths of his subconscious. 

Maybe the night hadn’t been as bad as Logan’s perception made it out to be. He was scared and shaken and confused, that’s all it was. In the morning the entire situation would feel less terrifying, all Logan needed to do was get a good night’s sleep. 

He trudged up the stairs with his cello and headed straight to his room. He placed his instrument in its corner and quickly changed into a pair of pyjamas before sitting on the edge of his bed. The little box filled with all of his letters seemed to all to him, and Logan couldn’t help but pull it out from under his bed.

He flipped through each of the letters, looking at the names and dates written on the outsides of each one. There were dozens, more than Logan had even remembered writing. They went back months, all of the way back to January when he’d written the very first one after finding out that Merida’s soulmate had passed away unknown. 

So many months of incredibly vulnerable, raw emotion shoved into a singular metal box decorated with Egyptian hieroglyphs. It seemed almost silly that Logan had poured so much of himself into those letters only to tuck them away in such a strange little box. He couldn’t help but feel a little guilty about it, though. 

If he’d only opened up years ago he’d never have needed the box in the first place. If he’d made a dozen other choices throughout his life he never would have had to write those letters in the first case. His kiss with Roman earlier that night would have been a normal part of his daily life. Virgil saying that he loved him could have been said in the open rather than hushed in the dark while nearly asleep. He could even have spent the last several years curled up on the couch with Patton watching movies instead of dreaming about it. 

Instead, Logan poured his heart and soul onto tiny sheets of paper with his soulmates’ names written in blue ink. The stupidity of it all was absolutely staggering. 

He’d just tucked the box back underneath his bed when he felt his arm tingle with the all-too-familiar sensation of writing. His heart fluttered just at the thought and he pushed up his sleeve with a big smile on his face, ready to read whatever little good-night note one of his soulmates had written.

The red ink was bright against Logan’s pale skin.

_ Can you guys call me when you get the chance? We need to talk about Logan. I think we were wrong about him. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Huge thanks to everyone who's been reading and supporting this! Y'all are awesome!   
> I'm still working on a companion for this but I'm not entirely sure if I'm going to have that up any time soon. It's been a crazy month and I'm currently dealing with surgery recovery and some other fun stuff so work on this has been pretty sluggish. I'm still working on new updates, though, I'm not abandoning this!  
> As always if you've got questions or comments let me know, I love reading what you guys have to say!


	14. feelings are fatal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> That was one question Logan did have a proper answer for. He needed to find out more information about his dad, and the only way to do that was to ask Merida.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The title for this chapter is based on the song "feelings are fatal" by mxmtoon!
> 
> I highly suggest checking out both Keep a Place For Me (https://archiveofourown.org/works/20960216) and It's Nothing (https://archiveofourown.org/works/20960327) before starting to read this chapter! They're relatively short fics that are from Patton and Roman's POV's and are meant to add some extra understanding of the events going on in the fic right now!
> 
> If you choose not to read either of those this will still make sense with the rest of the story, you won't be missing any necessary information. The others are just there to add a little more context and give a little more content.

“It’s good to see you here again, Logan,” Dr. Emile Picani said as Logan took his usual seat across from him. The office was quite spacious, with soft beige walls and mahogany bookcases. Among textbooks and psychology journals were rows and rows of DVDs, VHSs, and figurines. The figurines were of various different characters, most of which Logan didn’t recognize.

What little of the walls were left visible were covered with posters of cartoon characters.  _ Lilo and Stitch, A Bug’s Life, The Lion King, Steven Universe-- _ it was quite the collection. Logan couldn’t help but wonder if Roman had ever stepped foot in that office and what he would have thought about it. 

He cursed himself for the thought.  _ Roman… _ Well, Roman had made it quite clear that Logan wasn’t wanted, hadn’t he? The memory of those few words breaking out bright red across Logan’s arms made his skin crawl. 

_ I just had to kiss him,  _ Logan thought, his mind completely drifting away from the present.  _ I just had to ruin everything. Now what have I got? No friends, no soulmates, not even a decent family to go home to. _

He pressed his head into his hands, taking in a shaky breath. Logan had ruined his own life over the course of less than six months, and now, two months later, he still hadn’t figured out how to put the pieces back together. He was supposed to be starting college in two weeks and Logan wasn’t even sure he’d be able to handle it now. 

_ You should have just told them from the very beginning instead of leading them on. You lead  _ yourself  _ on, even. Did you really think that they’d welcome you? After all of that time lying to them?  _

The thing was, Logan had started to believe that they would welcome him. After Virgil had said… No. Virgil couldn’t have actually said what Logan thought he did. He couldn’t have. There were no “ _ I love you _ ”’s, not really. Logan had just made it up, imagined it into existence in his sleep-deprived state.

Whatever Virgil might have felt about Logan in the past, it was definitely nothing more than contempt now. After all, Logan had made an uninvited move on Virgil’s soulmate. There was no forgiving that, especially not when Logan had been lying to them all since the very first day.

“Logan? Is everything okay?” Dr. Picani asked, snapping Logan out of his thoughts and back to the present.

“I’m fine, just thinking,” Logan responded.

“Well, why don’t we start there, then? What’s on your mind?”

Logan didn’t feel much like explaining, but he’d talked a little with Emile about his situation over the past two months. Nothing with too many details, of course, Logan was careful not to reveal himself to the father of one of his soulmates, but enough that the complexity of the situation was clear. 

“I never should have let it get this far,” Logan groaned. “I just ended up hurting them more than anything.”

Emile seemed to ponder this for a moment, a hand pressed against his chin. At his foot, his guide dog Stitch yawned. “Your soulmates? Logan, how do you know that you’ve hurt them?”

“Why else would they have ‘been wrong about me’?”

“I’m sure there are a lot of possible explanations. You’ve said before that you never talked to them after that night, is it possible you might have misread the situation?”

_ Misread the situation.  _ Logan had heard that plenty of times from Emile. He was quite the optimist, it was easy to see where Patton had gotten the trait from. Still, Logan knew he hadn’t  _ misread _ anything. 

“I don’t think so, not this time. I betrayed their trust, I hurt R-... I hurt them all, and I can’t take it back now. I just never thought I’d feel this alone again.”

Truth was, Logan had never felt this alone before in his life. Before meeting his soulmates, sure, he had been alone, but he’d never thought of himself as  _ lonely _ . Now he knew exactly what he had lost, what was missing from his life, and the absence left his chest aching. Logan wondered if it was possible to die of loneliness.

“I never thought I’d meet them, I always thought… I guess I always thought that as long as I never wrote anything and was careful never to spill any ink on me that they would never have to know about me. This is so much worse than I ever thought it would be. The whole time I avoided them it was because I didn’t want to end up like my father and now I’m worse than he could ever be.”

Emile tapped a finger to his lips in thought as Logan spoke. “You’ve never mentioned your father before. What is it about him that you don’t want to be like?”

Logan groaned in frustration, burying his head in his hands. “I don’t know. I’ve never actually met him, all I know is what my mom has told me. She always says he was really emotional, that he never thought things through. She never wanted kids but he did. Apparently, when he found out she was going to have me he ran off.”

“He left without any explanation?”

“That’s what Merida says. I hadn’t really thought about it until a few months ago, but something just seems wrong with that. Why would he have taken off when he found out about me?” Logan’s voice felt small in his throat. The curiosity about his dad had been growing for months, more ideas prickling at the back of his mind by the day. He wouldn’t let himself entertain them for long, though. What good would it do?

“That’s a good question, but unfortunately, sometimes even the best questions go unanswered.”

“I don’t know if I can live with that,” Logan admitted. He wasn’t sure exactly what it was about Dr. Picani, but Logan couldn’t help but open up around him. It was easy to see where Patton’s patience and bubbling excitement came from, but Logan forced himself not to focus on that. Emile was a good listener and he just seemed to understand what Logan was going through. For whatever reason, that alone was enough to make Logan want to pour years worth of unspoken words straight from his heart onto the office floor. At least he knew that Emile would help him put the pieces back together. “I don’t know anything about him, it feels like I’m missing a huge piece of this puzzle I’ve been trying to put together for years.”

Emile hummed softly in understanding. “So what steps might you be able to take in order to find answers to those questions?”

That was one question Logan did have a proper answer for. He needed to find out more information about his dad, and the only way to do that was to ask Merida.

 

**_*********_ **

  
  


The sun was setting, casting an orange glow through the solarium where Logan was sitting. He’d been reading a book called “The Sea, The Sea,” by Iris Murdoch, but his mind wouldn’t focus on the words, instead wandering into dangerous territory. Eventually, he’d just given up in favor of watching the sunset. 

He heard the front door click open and then closed, signaling that it was time to put his plan into motion. 

The objective was relatively simple: get Merida to talk about Logan’s father. The other details? Well, that was where the trouble set in. 

First was a matter of pinning her down. In the past several months, Merida had become even more of a recluse than she had been before. Finding her home, awake, and not holed up inside of her bedroom had become nearly impossible, but Logan had decided that the key was to intercept her before she could shy away into the nearest corner.

Second was the matter of getting her talking. That one was going to be much more difficult since Logan’s dad had never been an easy subject, to begin with. With all of the added stress since January, Logan knew that bringing up such a touchy topic wasn’t going to be easy. He was just going to have to hope that it didn’t end with him getting screamed at.

He leaped out of his chair at the sound of the door, rushing towards the living room, careful not to seem excited as he rounded the corner. His mother was taking off her shoes by the front door, leaning against the wall as she did so. Her grey-blonde hair was down today, hanging in loose strands down past her shoulders. When she looked up, Logan realized for the first time how much his mother had aged in the past few years. He felt bad that he hadn’t noticed before.

“I was thinking about making chicken marsala for dinner tonight,” he said, glancing towards the kitchen.

His mother looked towards him as she managed to slip her shoe off. “That would be nice,” she said.

“It’s been a while since we’ve spent any time together, maybe afterwards we could Trivial Pursuit?”

Logan held his breath as he waited for Merida’s reply. They hadn’t spent an evening playing board games in years, and Logan was worried she might find the idea suspicious. If that was the case, however, she didn’t let on. 

“It has been a while, hasn’t it?” she mused. “Why don’t I make some apple cider while we’re at it, you used to love that when you were a kid.”

Logan couldn’t help the smile that broke out across his face. So far, so good. All he had to do was keep her in a good mood and hope that when the time came, his mother was feeling up to finally answering his questions. “That sounds great,” he told her as he headed towards the kitchen. “I’ll go ahead and get started, I already set the chicken out this morning.”

 

**_*********_ **

 

“I really don’t give you enough credit, Logan,” Merida mused. “You’re quite intelligent for a boy your age.”

“Me--” Logan started, before quickly remembering that calling his mother by her first name would likely start a fight that would hinder the progress he’d started to make over the course of the night. “Mom, I’m not a kid anymore.”

His mother sighed and took a sip from her glass of wine. “It’s so hard to see you as having grown up. I always think of you as the toddler who would run around telling all of the other kids that they needed to enunciate their words more clearly. You were such a handful back then.”

Logan chanced a laugh, “Was I really that bad?”

“You had me so worried back then. I thought you’d be just like your father, obsessed with literature and those old plays.”

Logan had to fight himself to keep breathing. He hadn’t expected Merida to mention his father at all without prompting, and he couldn’t help but feel like even the slightest movement would scare her away from the topic permanently. Slowly, he convinced himself to breach the topic. “You’ve never mentioned that he liked theatre.”

Merida scoffed, “Theatre? Don’t even get me started. Every weekend when we first started dating--every single weekend!--your father would want to take me to the theatre. ‘You’ll love this one!’ he’d say! ‘It’s a classic!’ I hated them, every single one of them. And did we ever do anything I wanted to do? Did we ever go to the symphony? Did he ever take me to the civil war battlegrounds like he promised? Of course not!”

Merida finished her glass of wine before quickly pouring another. In the days before the loss of her soulmate, Logan would never have considered his mother to be much of a drinker. Now, he couldn’t help but feel concerned about how often she drank. Admittedly, though, Logan did find his mother much more tolerable when she’d been drinking. 

“He should have taken you, it’s not right to always have done what he wanted.”

“Selfish… Inconsiderate… Did you know he used to make me volunteer at the animal shelter? Always wanted me to go with him, always trying to get me out of the house. ‘You study too much, Merida. Why don’t we do something fun?’ What sort of fun is cleaning kennels?”

Logan stifled a laugh. He couldn’t help but imagine his mother wrestling a chihuahua as she attempted to clean its cage. In his entire life, Logan had never once seen his mother approach a dog, and now he had to wonder if her dislike for them had begun before or after the volunteer work. 

“Why would he make you do that?” Logan asked.

Merida sighed before taking another drink from her glass. “Who knows? It was always ‘Thomas this, Thomas that.’ He never thought about what I wanted.”

For a brief moment, Logan thought he might have had a stroke. Throughout his whole life Merida had avoided talking about Logan’s father, and never once had she even come close to saying his name. Surely now it was just Logan’s wishful thinking, his overactive imagination just playing a trick on him.

Yet Logan was sure. Logan was absolutely positive that he had heard his mother right. Finally, Logan had a name to assign to the concept of his father. One of the biggest questions of his life had finally been answered, and all it had taken was to let his mother drink a little too much and to get her talking about all of the ways Logan’s father--Thomas--had mistreated her.

There were so many more questions to ask, but Logan didn’t want to push his luck. Only one question seemed likely enough to get a response.

“Why did you stay? With my father, I mean. Why did you stay if you were unhappy?”

Merida paused for a moment, staring intently at her nearly empty glass of wine. She took a deep breath before finally speaking. 

“I wasn’t unhappy.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Huge thank you to everyone who's been reading this! Thank you all for being so patient with me and my hectic (practically nonexistent) upload schedule! Between school and general life things I've barely had enough time to even think about writing, much less to actually sit down and work on anything. 
> 
> As always, thank you for all of the kudos and comments, it really helps me to get an idea as to how everyone's feeling about the story so far and helps me to know where to readjust when necessary. If you have any questions or anything, feel free to ask me here or over on my Tumblr account @quentin-speaks


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